


Two Weeks

by mitsuboo



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, Everybody is stupid, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:55:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 39,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24067729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mitsuboo/pseuds/mitsuboo
Summary: Byleth and Dimitri - who are both inexperienced in the ways of affection - agree to practice being in a relationship to prepare for their respective arranged marriages. Two weeks of lies and convoluted schemes give the two most oblivious people in Fodlan the chance to fall in love.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 29
Kudos: 198





	1. This Week

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this has been kinda done before, in some way or another. ChronoXtreme has written my favorite arranged marriage au fic, and I greatly appreciate the Clan Eisner collections. If you’re looking for canon divergent noble-lady Byleth, and arranged marriage dimileth, but in much greater detail and much better written, check out the aforementioned if you haven’t already. 
> 
> Also, this is a challenge for myself to try and keep everything within two chapters. It's really hard because I have the tendency to turn everything into novel length monstrosities. Please forgive me if it seems odd in any way, it's just me not knowing how to properly condense things into two chapters. 
> 
> Also Also... i write on Google docs and it likes to mess up some italics when i bring it over here. Again, please forgive me if the spacing is weird. I tried to catch everything but I may have missed some. <3

**Sunday**

Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd had faced many tribulations in his 23 years of life on Fodlan, but never any as unpredictably challenging as the one he encountered now. 

“Oh, and we can put daisies here, with a splash of greenery. Don’t you think that’s nice? I think that’s nice.”

Daisies vs. Lilies.

Tulle vs. Silk.

Royal blue vs. Baby Blue. 

His back ached with the world resting upon his shoulders so heavily. He held the flower in his hand, and looked at the greenery the decorator waved in front of his face. The daisies were pretty, of course, but so were the lilies. And how could he possibly bring himself to care about what fabric covers the walls? Or what shade of blue the carpets were? 

Flowers were flowers. Fabric was simply fabric. And blue was blue! 

He blurted the first thing that came to mind, “Daisies.”

“Good choice, your highness!” The royal decorator clasped her hands and took the flower from him, springing away to write the decision on parchment. Dimitri’s mood dropped further, and further, until it sunk down to the floor - and there it would remain. 

Rufus looked just as uninterested in the surroundings of the wedding chapel as his nephew was, “Looks good…” he offered weakly.

“Uncle,” the Prince sighed, barely able to stop himself before he dropped his polite sensibilities, “I’m glad you think so.”

“Oh come on,” he patted his shoulder pityingly, “you hate it too.”

He did. The floodgates opened, “I don’t understand why I’m even being involved in this. Shouldn’t the…” he tensed, forcing the word out as if it was sour on his tongue, “ _bride_ be the one making these decisions?”

“The wedding is held here in Fhirdiad,” he explained slowly, gesturing around him, “she’s arriving this Sunday, the day of the wedding! She couldn’t _possibly_ decorate through letter.”

Unamused, Dimitri grunted, “I feel as if this is the first decision I’ve ever been involved in. And it’s simply having to choose between tulle and silks.”

The decorator cleared her throat from nearby, looking up from her parchment with wide eyes, “And?”

“Tulle, I guess.”

“Thank you, your highness.”

Rufus sent him a sardonic, bitter smile under the scraggly beard covering his face. “At least you’ll be King in a week. We’ll refer to you as ‘Your Majesty’ instead. Then, you can make all the decisions you want.”

His reassurance did nothing for the Prince. Dimitri had never been one to lust for power, and it wasn’t as exciting to be crowned when one grew up being trained and reminded on the daily of said coronation awaiting him. 

Dimitri ignored his uncle, instead sending a glance to the decorator to grab her attention. “You can choose whatever you like from here on, your taste is much better than mine anyway.” It was met with a titter and a battering of the eyes, followed by a shout to rip all of the tulle from it’s places and replace everything with silk.

Rufus eyed him, “Are you retreating from the battle, commander?”

“I’m afraid I am.”

“Be back by sundown, then.”

The Prince deigned to respond, only offering a tight smile as he walked down the chapel aisle and out of the large, wooden doors. The afternoon sun of Northern Faerghus provided no warmth, and the sky above was grey with the threat of storms. 

Dedue stood to attention as Dimitri brushed past him. He was on his Prince’s heels in an instant, yet said nothing. There were certain times when Dimitri truly wished that Dedue spoke more, and other times when he appreciated the silent nature of the man. In this moment, he treasured the silence. 

“I’m going for a ride,” he informed him as they neared the stable.

Dedue nodded stoically, “Alone?”

He sighed, “I believe that’s best, dear friend. I need some time to think.”

Another slow nod, “Marriage is… very important. And a big change.”

“Certainly. You and Mercedes make it look quite easy, though.”

The lightest of pink blushes dusted his cheeks. Mercedes had just visited Dedue while he was working the other night, and Dimitri had found himself walking in on a very sweet kiss between the two. Dedue was the most embarrassed between the three of them, and the prince found himself ignoring what happened simply for the sake of his good friend’s heart. 

Never once had Mercedes and Dedue been heard fighting, spitting words at one another, or being bitter. They both were so soft, and kind, and while relationships were not on Dimitri’s mind much, he admired their’s. If he was to pick any marriage to treat as an example, it would be the Molinaros. 

“Thank you,” Dedue cleared his throat bashfully, “I wish you the best, your highness-”

“Dimitri.”

“... _Dimitri_ , and I hope that you and Miss Eisner become… friends, at the very least.”

He sighed deeply, hand resting on the door of the stable. As much affection as he had for his dear friend, another conversation about Lady Eisner was the very last thing he wanted to take part in. “I do too, my friend.”

Always having been good at reading a room, Dedue let the topic drop with quiet politeness. He nodded, and stepped away, “If it would be okay, your high- _Dimitri,_ may I…”

“Yes, go see her.”

Mercedes, he meant. She was helping decorate the chapel for the upcoming wedding. She had a moment free from her priestess duties, and would be able to entertain her husband as much as she wished, though he most likely would just be asked to help lift heavy decor instead. Dedue sent him a subtle, grateful look, and Dimitri watched his back as he retreated in the direction of the dreaded chapel that he had just escaped from. 

Going for a ride was one of Dimitri’s few solaces while at the castle. He had only been back in Fhirdiad for two weeks, and his uncle had married him off within a few days of his return. Dimitri had been taking _many_ rides since the news of his engagement. 

The horses never expected anything from him, except maybe an apple or sweet grass. Dimitri stroked the mane of his largest, oldest mount as he fed her hay from his hand, “Just one more week, and I’ll meet her,” he murmured, “Lady Eisner. I suppose she’ll be lady Blaiddyd- er, Queen Blaiddyd.”

The horse did not reply, as horses never did. Dimitri saddled her up and buckled her in, muttering to himself as he did so, “They say she’s reasonable, I suppose what more could a man ask for?”

Love? Friendship? A normal courtship that involved actually meeting face to face and having a conversation? 

Preposterous! He snorted to himself just thinking about it. As if his life could ever have anything normal and logical in it. 

As he rode through the courtyard and out of the castle gates, into the field beyond, he thought of his conversation with his uncle - of the _many_ conversations/arguments he had with Rufus lately.

“ _This is for Faerghus,_ ” Rufus had informed so smartly, as if Dimitri didn’t already know that, “ _don’t be childish."_

_“I’m childish for wanting to at least meet her? To go to Garreg Mach and introduce myself and see if we could even get along?_ ”

“ _Marriage is not about getting along, boy. It’s about… taxes! And the economy! If you do this, we might finally be able to feed our damn people. You want that, don’t you?_ ”

Dimitri wanted that more than anything. 

It was odd to think of Lady Eisner being from Garreg Mach, as Dimitri had personally attended the school just five years prior, and had never once heard of her. Yet, then again, Dimitri could not even recall what her first name was. Perhaps he _had_ met her before, and had simply forgotten. 

Outside of Fhirdiad, the smaller farms and ranches struggled to put food on their table. He rode past their wilting crops, and avoided the eyes of the field workers as he clopped by. 

His marriage would help them. Garreg Mach would send funds, and those funds would go to importing water and workers, and the importing of water would help the crops, and the workers would build greenhouses. Perhaps they could hire a few mages to cast fertility spells. Perhaps more tourists would visit, and perhaps more revenue would come, and perhaps Faerghus, for once since the death of King Lambert, would be _okay_. 

Dimitri could only hope. 

After an hour of riding, the settlements and farms turned into craggy cliffs and hidden valleys. Dimitri slowed his mount so that it would not trip over the rockiness of the roadway, and took a moment to enjoy the breeze brushing through his hair. 

A mile ahead was a bigger village, the first one outside of Fhirdiad that wasn’t composed of only one or two houses. Usually it was where travelers would stay overnight on their way to the capitol. Dimitri had visited the village many times to check on a few acquaintances now and then, and nobody had ever proved to be a problem in the surrounding areas. 

As of late, though, bandit activity had begun to rise. It always rose during summer - Faerghuns _called_ it summer, but it truly was just winter with less snow and ice. The ruffians supposedly felt energized by the rare flashes of sun through the constant grey clouds, and would increase in their ruffian-activities. Dimitri was not surprised at all when approached by a panicked man approaching from his left.

“Sir!” He yelled, out of breath as he ran to Dimitri’s horse. He stopped to rest his hands on his knees and pant as the prince pulled the reins to halt and look down at the restless commoner. 

He was dirty, missing a few teeth, but dressed like a normal person nonetheless. He only carried a small dagger at his side, which was a necessity in Faerghus. Usually, Dimitri could spot a thug a mile away, and this tired, middle aged man looked entirely harmless. 

“What is it?” He rested a hand on the shaft of his lance, “Are you okay?”

“There’s two bandits that’re bothering my family!” He pointed to the East, beyond a cluster of boulders with evergreens growing up between them. Dimitri squinted, but could not see any movement behind the trees. 

He hopped from his horse and led her by the reins to a nearby tree, making quick work of a knot as he tied her up. “Lead me.” 

And so Dimitri was led. 

Right into a very odd fight. 

Frustrated at being dragged through the thickest part of the forest and mountainside, Dimitri pulled several leaves from his hair and tossed them to the ground with fervor. They drifted peacefully, not reflecting his inner emotions, nor matching the glare on his face as he looked at the commoner.

“The bandits bothering your _family_ are a girl… and an old man?” By ‘family’ he must’ve meant a group of well armed men dressed in leather armor. 

The commoner grimaced at the glare, “They’re my family! And those two are dangerous, I’m telling ‘ya!”

“I expected a group of ruffians,” he informed stiffly, “ _they’re_ the outnumbered ones here.”

“They’ve got sharp swords!”

Dimitri eyed the girl, who blankly cut down an attacker. Her sword caught the light and nearly blinded him, even when painted red with blood. It _did_ look quite sharp. 

Yet, the group that was supposedly being robbed had their own sharp swords. One man lifted an ax, swinging to bring it down upon the older man’s head. The man rolled to the side, and kicked his feet out from under him, making the ax man tumble onto his knees. 

He supposed that there _had_ been odder bandit teams. A young woman and an old man didn’t seem so odd a criminal pair. Perhaps they were lovers? Or a father and daughter crime duo? 

Whatever they were, they fought well, much better than the poor commoners they attacked. Dimitri huffed in anger, gripping his lance, “You will not trample over the defenseless any longer!”

The girl’s eyes flickered to him, delicate brows furrowing, “What?”

“I won’t repeat myself,” he twisted his lance, “Leave these poor people alone!”

“Poor people?” The older man scoffed as he blocked an ax attack once more, “ _We’re_ the poor people here!”  
  


“You criminals always think you’re the victims,” Dimitri spat, “leave these men alone.”

With his command hanging in the air, several of the commoners stepped aside to allow him take off into a run at the girl. Her eyes widened, and she raised her sword to block his attack at the very last moment. 

His crest glowed, her sword faltered and she stumbled away, managing to duck under his weapon before it could slit her throat. 

“Wait!” She commanded as she blocked yet another jab. 

The older man jumped into action, and it was two against one. The rest of the crowd had stepped away to watch the fight with jaunts and cheers for their golden savior. “I didn’t think they’d have such a beast fighting for them,” he grunted, taking a swipe with his own lance at Dimitri, yet failing to make contact. 

“I fight for the people,” the prince answered, “You’ll terrorize them no longer.”

Another cheer from the surrounding men, who were raising their weapons in glee. Dimitri dodged a kick, side stepped, and rolled before attacking the man. While distracted, the woman stepped back to even the odds, “Father, he keeps his left open.”

“Righto.”

She had been able to analyze him in only a minute of fighting? The wide owl eyes of the girl saw _that_ _much_ from only a few jabs and swipes? It was beginning to dawn on Dimitri that these two were not simple minded bandits. 

“Why’re crazy people always the most dangerous?” The old man questioned as he and Dimitri went for each other’s throats, both never letting the other in, “It’s like their delusions give them extra strength.”

“Crazy?” Dimitri barked a laugh, dodging once more, “Am I crazy for defending innocents?”

Under his scruffy beard, the man’s mouth gaped open like a fish. He stepped away from the fight and held his lance in front of him defensively, “Innocents? Kid, are you daft?”

“Are _you_? Stepping away and leaving yourself open like that?”

“Look around you,” the girl gestured.

Hesitantly, Dimitri looked. 

The group of men were gone. 

“ _They_ were the bandits,” she informed flatly, “ _we_ were defending the village. And you just let them get away.”

He froze. 

Dimitri had many moments in his life where he felt extremely, incredibly dumb. Most of them involved Felix, and many more of them involved Sylvain’s schemes. It was rare for Dimitri to bring such stupidity upon himself, as he was usually rather observant and took care to never involve himself in anything humiliating. 

Yet, in this moment, he felt more dumb than ever. And he had caused it all by himself, no help from his friends needed. 

He cleared his throat and straightened his shoulders. The fight was over, the weapons lowered and tension having dissolved away with the awkwardness, “Ah, yes. Now that you point it out, I _did_ notice their excessive armor and weapons. Rather uncommon for villagers…”

The older man obviously thought he was dumb as well, “Or their large bags of gold that they stole? The bags that several of them were carrying?”

He did not notice those at all, but it made enough sense. “I suppose that’s why I was so surprised at you two,” he allowed himself a bashful chuckle, “thieves don’t usually fight so well. You both fight like nobility.”

The woman seemed uninterested once the topic of nobility was brought up. The man only huffed a short laugh and shook his head, “We can hold our own, I guess.”

He guessed. They certainly _could_ hold their own! The woman had barely been knocked back by his crest, when he was using an amount of strength that would usually send grown men onto their bottoms. 

He observed the woman. Her hair was dark, pulled into two braided pigtails on the sides of her face. Her nose was like a button, and her eyes rather large and fetching as she observed him in return. 

Very fetching indeed. He had never seen eyes so thickly lined by lashes, so nicely placed onto a face. He hoped that wasn’t an odd thing to think about someone, that their eyes were placed nicely onto their face.

He nearly snorted at himself. ‘Oh, yes, hello, your eyes are placed so wonderfully upon your face, how did they get that way?’ Charming. 

The older man was busy wiping the blood off his own lance when Dimitri turned his attention onto him. He was scruffy, tall and wide. He eyed his weapon with a growing smile, “That’s a wonderful lance.”

He looked down at it, “She’s okay. She’s gotten me through a lot of tough times,” he extended a hand, “Jeralt, and my daughter Byleth. We’re travelers.”

“How wonderful,” and he truly meant it. To be travelers that fought so well, with such nice weapons and such nice forms, it almost seemed a reality that he might possibly achieve. “Where’ve you traveled?”

Byleth answered now, her voice soft, “Everywhere. We just spent a summer in Duscur.”

“Ah,” he tasted the words on his tongue, “Duscur. How do you feel about… Well, I suppose that’s too deep a question to be asking within five minutes of knowing each other.”

“And right after trying to kill us,” she put a hand over her mouth as if covering a smile, “how charming. To answer, though, we like Duscur and it’s people.”

Byleth and Jeralt eyed him as if to challenge him to argue. Dimitri, though, was overjoyed, “It’s good to see someone that does. I truly believe they’re innocent. In fact, I spent some time there myself recently.”

Jeralt seemed relieved, “Oh, you’re a traveler too?”

“I wish,” he shifted in place, burying his hands into the pockets of his heavy wool jacket and feeling like an embarrassed child, “I’m afraid my traveling days are over, I’m stuck here in the capitol now.”

Byleth lit up. It was a dim light, like a fire on a match, but a light nonetheless. “Have you ever gone to Sreng?”

To aid Sylvain in quelling a rebellion, yes. “I have. It’s beautiful, but inhospitable.”

“What about Brigid?”

“I’m afraid not.” He’d always wanted to though, yet he was afraid the hot weather would make it unbearable anyway. 

“If you ever travel again, you should go,” she covered her mouth again, and he wondered if she was smiling under that small, pale hand, “It’s wonderful.”

“I’ll have to visit one day.” His heart had grown excited at the talk of traveling, and he rolled on the balls of his feet, “I’ve been traveling for the past five years or so, never as far as Brigid, but I enjoyed it greatly.”

He had been traveling as the commander of a small army that took care of rebellions and made alliances. It was not a vacation, yet he preferred it over the arranged marriage that awaited him. 

Jeralt cleared his throat, “You haven’t told us your name, kid.”

His name. His name. Jeralt was right, he hadn’t told them his name. 

Father and daughter waited with curious eyes.

If they had not come to the conclusion that he was the Prince just yet, he would certainly not be the one to lead them there. To these two, he was just a traveler, now detained to Fhirdiad for unknown reasons. And he had worn his dirty riding clothes, and nothing to signify him as royalty of any kind.

Lambert had always taught Dimitri to never lie. He would betray his father’s commands for just the tiniest, littlest, white lie. 

“Dima,” his voice sounded confident, yet he rocked on his feet anxiously, “That’s my name. Dima.”

“Dima? Is that a nickname?” Jeralt raised a brow. 

“It _was_. My grandfather’s nickname was Dima,” how lying came so easily to him, he had no idea, “so my ma and da named me that. Not his real name, though, they didn’t like the sound of it.”

“Dima,” Byleth repeated, awkward in her own special way as she tensed her shoulders and lowered her head just in the slightest, “Well, we’re going to be in the nearby village until next Sunday. You should come by and see us again.”

Jeralt shot her a warning look that she promptly ignored. 

Dimitri ignored it as well. His excitement at the web of dishonesty that he had begun to weave was paramount to any nervousness that he felt. He sent her a reassuring smile, “Where’re you staying?”

“ _We_ ,” Jeralt wrapped an arm over her shoulder, “are staying at the only inn there. I bet you can find us pretty easily. Maybe you can help us take care of the rest of that bandit group.”

“I would love to,” he lit up, “I mean, not that fighting is something I love. But I’m happy to help.”

“Great,” he clapped his shoulder a little too hard, making it sting under his touch, “Meet me in town tomorrow morning at 10 a.m., if you can, kid. Bring some healing stuff, and try not to get tricked into another fight on your way there.”

Unamused, he snorted, “I’ll try. I’ve always been told that I’m too trusting.”

Byleth gazed at him, her lips slightly parted and her head tilted to the side, “I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that.”

Now, Jeralt’s arm over her shoulders was even tighter. He looked annoyed as he yanked her away from Dimitri, scowling. “There’s _plenty_ wrong with it, By.” With his back to him, he raised a hand, calling out as Byleth regained her balance and followed at his heels, “See ya tomorrow, kid.”

Byleth sent him a glance. Dimitri sent her a smile. 

Now, he was Dima, the traveler named after his grandfather. A mystery with no responsibilities, who would help fight bandits with two strangers he had just met. 

Dima was not getting married in a week. Dima was well traveled and could be anywhere he wanted at any time. Dima made friends easily, and it didn’t matter what their status of nobility was. 

Dima could talk to girls with fetching eyes and didn’t get paranoid that they wanted to marry him to become Queen. Dima could smile, and not have to worry about gossip from the court. 

Dimitri really, truly, wanted to be Dima.

  
  
  


**Monday**

Fighting Jeralt and Byleth had tired out the Prince far more than he assumed, and sleep had hit like an arrow in the back. Monday morning proved to be absolute torture. 

It was around 8 a.m. when he lay face down in his bed. He knew that Dedue stood outside the door, but was much too kind to wake him. 

Despite his laziness, he felt in good spirits. He had managed to get a good night of rest for the first time in weeks. He wondered if he should hire the strongest fighters in the country and spar with them daily in order to tire him out. Was that the secret to sleeping well?

Perhaps, it was that he had Byleth and Jeralt waiting for him. Perhaps it was having an actual purpose for the day instead of wedding planning. Whatever the reason for his high spirits, he revelled in the feeling. 

Rolling over in bed and staring at the ceiling, he heard Dedue shift outside of the door. He waved his hand lazily, “Come in, you don’t have to stand there, my friend.”

The knob turned, and the door opened to reveal his retainer. He cleared his throat awkwardly, “You slept in today.”

“Apologies,” he sat up, “I just slept well for once.”

“Is that tea helping?”

Dimitri eyed the half drank cup of tea on his bedside table, “I appreciate the chamomile, but I’m afraid it’s not enough. I think I was just tired from… my riding yesterday.”

Dedue raised a brow. 

“I, also… may have gotten into a fight.”

“Ah.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry! I didn’t even get hit.” 

“Hmm.”

It was like having a large, muscular mother. Dimitri frowned, “I was fine, really. I’m even going back this morning to finish the job.”

“I’ll go with you.”

He picked at his bedsheet, if only for something to fidget with while under his retainer’s gaze, “No, I ask that you don’t…”

“...May I ask why?”

“Yes,” the Prince spoke slowly, “I… just feel that I need some alone time.”

“Alone time facing bandits?”

“There’s only one or two of them left.” Another lie, another string on his web. Showing such dishonesty to a stranger was one thing, but to Dedue was an entirely different beast. He found himself frowning, uncomfortable by his own choice of words. 

“I still think I should go with you.”

“I beg of you,” Dimitri tried to diffuse the situation with a light voice, putting his hand up in defense and forcing a smile onto his lips, “I need some time alone. I’m getting married in a week, for goodness sake. It’s quite the life change.”

It was not something Dedue could argue with, as he had taken his first and only ever vacation the week before his own marriage. He spent the entire time gardening and muttering to himself in his mother tongue, obviously deep in thought. 

Yet, the difference there was that he was in _love_ with Mercedes, and was meditating on how best to be a husband to her. Dimitri had never met Lady Eisner, and had no feelings even close to what Dedue had felt. 

His retainer could understand, though, and backed away, “Okay. All I ask is for you to be safe, though.”

“I will, my friend, I promise.”

He nodded, backing out of the room fully, “I’ll send for breakfast.” 

“Thank you.” The subject was dropped, thankfully, and Dimitri could finally begin getting ready for his appointment. 

The village was an hour or so’s ride away, and he took the fastest horse he had. Rufus had not shown his face in the castle that morning, nor the wedding planner, and Dimitri could only hope that he had evaded their intentions at least for the next few hours. 

Upon arriving in the village, he caught sight of Byleth waiting outside of the inn, drawing pictures in the dirt with a long stick. She glanced up at the sound of hooves clopping along the road, and her eyes shined with a subdued excitement.

“She’s nice. Yours?”  
  


Dimitri hopped from his horse and lay a hand on the brown mane, admiring it, “Yes, one of mine.”

“One of yours?” She questioned softly, “You have more than one horse?”

How stupid he felt, and he had not even been there for 30 seconds yet. Already bragging about how many horses he had, when normal travelers rarely could even afford one horse to begin with. 

He cleared his throat and shifted in place, “ _Had._ I lost my other horse years ago…”

“Oh,” compassion flitted across her features, “I’m sorry. I lost my pet frog last year, and it was very difficult.”

“...Pet frog?”

“His name was Turnip,” she grimaced, “Father accidentally stepped on him.”

“That’s… gross.” Squashed frog did not make for a kind mental image.

Byleth’s laugh was airy, yet she covered her mouth once more. Her head was thrown back just the slightest, and her eyes closed, but her hand shielded his sight from the one thing he was most curious about. 

Did she have messed up teeth? Were they black, or missing? Was she one of those people whose gums were really large and teeth very small? Why did she cover her mouth?

He could only wonder as she laughed at his scrunched up nose and furrowed brow, “I’m only kidding with you.”

“Your sense of humor is…” he gave a breathy chuckle, “subtle.”

She had looked so serious when talking of Turnip the Frog being crushed by her father’s foot. Dimitri couldn’t help but smile as she shook her head at him, “So I’ve been told. I don’t even try to be sarcastic, it just doesn’t work.”

“Me neither, it doesn’t come naturally.”

“My father, though,” she glanced over her shoulder at the entrance to the inn, “he’s trying to teach me sarcasm.”

“All I ever learned from my father was how to stab things,” he deadpanned, “and how to properly carve a gourd to turn it into a flute.”

“A flute?”

“That’s a story for another time, “ he shrugged, feeling uncomfortable on the subject of his father. Despite the bantering, joking nature between them, Dimitri was entirely out of his element when it came to wit and word-play. He shifted his attention to the door, “Where is your father anyway?”

Her eyes lingered on him, making him feel a bit humid under her unexplainable gaze. Content, she leaned back on the porch and rested her palms on the wood, “He’s not feeling well today. I’m not sure if he’ll join us.”

“Is he okay?”

“He…” she cleared her throat and closed her eyes, “he drank too much last night.”

A hangover, something Dimitri had not gotten to experience in years. If he was ever allowed to drink it was only the smallest amount, and he had very little desire to drink in the first place. “I can come back later, if you like?”

“No, just give it a minute,” she patted the spot beside her, “if you don’t mind waiting.”

Another moment entirely out of his element. Byleth was a bit intimidating, yet Dimitri could sense that she was trying not to be. He lowered himself beside her, feeling his legs were too big for the small steps of the porch. “I don’t mind.”

She hummed in response, and a comfortable silence blanketed between the two. His discomfort began to melt away with the passing moments, eyes lingering on the waving grass in front of him. Byleth rested her cheek in her palm, slumping over in a way no proper lady of the court ever would. 

If Dimitri was seen sitting next to a girl at a ball, the walls would erupt with sheer gossip. 

Now, as Dima, he could sit peacefully and enjoy the breeze, waiting for a hungover man to stop vomiting. 

“So, a flute?”

Byleth’s question broke through the silence. She earned a smile from the Prince as he reminiscenced, “If you carve out a gourd and cut holes in the right places, it makes music when you blow in it. Not particularly beautiful music, but my father and I could do a few pieces together.”

“I’ll have to try that.”

Comfortable silence fell once more. After several moments, the door behind them opened with a bang. Byleth straightened up and glanced over her shoulder to catch Jeralt stumbling from the doorway. Dimitri sent him a smile, and was greeted with tired, narrowed eyes. 

“Goodmorning!” Byleth’s voice was saccharine and cheery. 

Jeralt grunted, “Don’t talk so loud.”

Noted. Dimitri made it a point to speak softly, “Are you feeling well enough? I don’t mind waiting…”

He truly didn’t. It would’ve been a relief to spend more time in disguise in the small village. He had several friends he could visit, and would be able to fill time easily. Yet, Jeralt scoffed, shoulders slumped, “Let’s just go.”

It was decided, then. Dimitri and Byleth stood, stepping off the porch and onto the ground to let Jeralt stumble past them. He slung an arm over his daughter’s shoulder, putting his weight onto her. She held him up with ease. 

It was only a few more steps down the road until Dimitri took Jeralt’s other arm. The older man groaned in annoyance, but allowed the support as the two nearly drug him into the forest. His head was slumped over, eyes shut tightly as he shielded himself from the sun. 

“Is this a regular occurence?” Dimitri asked quietly, whispering over Jeralt’s slumped neck. 

Byleth sent him a quirk of her lips, amusement sparkling in her eyes, “Yes.”

“Shush, it was just…” Jeralt huffed darkly, “free apple-ale night.”

Apple ale sounded disgusting to Dimitri, but it was apparently good enough for Jeralt. After entering the forested area, they stopped to allow the older man to kneel down and vomit against a tree. 

Byleth took the opportunity while her father emptied his guts, “We should just go by ourselves.”

Dimitri watched her stroke his back, delicate hand rubbing circles through his jacket as he threw up once more. He could never imagine Lambert having been in that position, yet he had not ever gotten the opportunity to know his father as an adult. Perhaps it was different when one grew up, and the parent allowed themselves to become more at peace, vomiting wildly on a tree while their child soothed them. 

How odd. It was unimaginable. “Are you sure you want to leave him?”

Jeralt lifted his head, “No! Don’t go anywhere, kid, you know the rules.”

“I’m a grown woman,” her tone was laced with annoyance, “that rule doesn’t apply.”

“It will _always_ apply.”

She ignored her father, stepping past him and gesturing for a hesitant Dima to follow, “Let’s just go. It’ll be faster if it’s just us.”

Dimitri glanced at Jeralt, who looked at him with baggy, narrowed eyes. They gazed at each other, and Dimitri hesitated. Until Jeralt began coughing again, and waved his hand, “Just go. But if you touch her, I’ll kill you.”

The point was loud and clear. Dimitri straightened up, feeling like a soldier under a seasoned general’s command, rather than a 23 year old Prince being threatened by an old commoner. “Yes sir.”

Satisfied with his response, Jeralt allowed himself to rest against the tree and take a deep sigh. Dimitri stepped past him and followed Byleth, who waited for him to catch up further ahead. 

Her gaze was blank, eyes blinking as she watched him approach, “He’s fine, this is just a normal Monday.”

A normal Monday, of course. But not for him.

“I’m usually doing paperwork by now,” he snorted as he followed, “and on my fourth cup of tea.”

“We can have tea when we get back,” she lit up ever so slightly, “I have all types you can try, if you’d like.”

Truthfully, he didn’t expect to still be sticking around once they got back. Yet, tea sounded wonderful. Being away from the castle and wedding planning sounded _wonderful_. He wouldn’t dream of refusing her tempting offer. “I’d love to.”

**Tuesday**

Dimitri had not ever found himself so excited for a Tuesday morning. 

The dining table was filled beautifully, as per usual. Several knights sat at the end of the table digging into sausages and bacon, while Dedue sat next to Rufus and picked at his eggs. Dimitri took no seat, though, and only leaned over the table to snatch a croissant from the pastry tower, “I’ll be back this evening,” his took a quick bite, “I’ve got some business in town today.”

A raised brow, a frozen fork. A frown from the King Regent, “Oh, do you?”

“I’m very busy,” the prince nodded, taking another bite with one hand on his hip, “Babies to kiss, hands to shake. You know.”

Dedue and Rufus shared a look. His uncle glowered at him, “You’re lying.”

“Seiros hates lying, Uncle. I was taught better.”

He was, that much was true. It was a shame that he was becoming so damn good at it. 

“Where’re you going?” Rufus demanded as his grip on his silverware tightened. Several curious knights and servants glanced their way curiously, and Dimitri rolled on the balls of his feet as he ignored their eyes. 

“I told you,” he assured, “I have business. Please, trust me,” he smiled, wiping at his mouth to erase a few crumbs, “I’m going to be the King soon, I’m just preparing.”

Dedue looked away. He had already spoken to Dimitri that morning about the village, about his rides, about his secrecy. He knew to not question his friend’s motives. 

Rufus sighed in defeat and returned to glaring at his cold eggs. There was no way he could argue with the future King, with his coronation so close ahead. And it was true, he did need to prepare. Rufus had done some of his own preparations before taking his place as Regent, and was busy even now with _not_ being Regent any longer. “Don’t get killed.”

Dimitri won. Victorious, he took another bite from his croissant, and felt like skipping as he left the dining room. 

Yesterday’s tea with Byleth and a hungover Jeralt was enjoyable, mainly because Jeralt was taking a nap on a nearby couch while the two tried different teas. Byleth was a wonderful host, with wonderful handling of the kettle and the cups. 

_“I was taught how to serve from a young age,”_ she had informed softly, _“I know it’s odd for a traveler to do this.”_

_“I don’t think it’s odd at all. This is simply your hobby, correct?”_

Her smile held it’s own secrets, _“Yes, it’s my hobby.”_

And what a wonderful hobby it was. The conversation was simple, and quite mindless. Byleth poured her own tea as she tapped her foot anxiously under the table, “ _I’m sorry to be a boring conversational partner. I’m still practicing how to talk to people.”_

It didn’t matter much to him. The beats of silence were comfortable, and he felt that she didn’t expect him to blabber endlessly as some others usually did. “ _I find it refreshing. It’s nice to not have to talk of heavy things all the time.”_

_“Do you usually talk of heavy things?”_

He had frozen, and only sent her a tight smile, _“Doesn’t everybody?”_

Dimitri thought of the conversations with joy. At one point, she had melted into a passionate - as passionate as she seemed to get - ramble about fishing, and he watched with glee. 

No proper court lady would ever dream about touching a fish! Byleth adored it, and could tell him what type of fish were in what bodies of water. She obviously loved the hobby, and obviously loved her tea, and she had taken on those bandits with the techniques of a seasoned fighter.

He could only hope his Lady Eisner that he would marry on Sunday was as interesting of a woman as Byleth. 

Dimitri made his way out of the castle and to the stables once more. He frequented the stables most of the week, but it was his second morning of making bee-lines straight to the horses. He chose the same he had yesterday, not wanting to raise questions by taking a different mount every day he visited Jeralt and Byleth.

Monday’s tea served as a wonderful rest from the fight with the bandits. Dimitri and Byleth took quick care of them, yet found themselves tired as they made their way back to the village. She was wiping the blood from her sword as she walked, glancing his way, _“I liked your form, Dima. If you’re free, and not tired of us yet, maybe you could come by tomorrow and we can spar.”_

Obviously, Dimitri would not refuse the chance to spar, especially with one so well battled as Byleth. 

As he saddled the horse up, he couldn’t help but smile ear to ear. He would spar with her, he would learn something new, and perhaps he would forget, just for a moment, about his impending doom. 

He wondered if Lady Eisner ever sparred. Most likely not, as she was from the Church. She was probably a healer, and that would be nice when his shoulder hurt from his past battles, but overall it wouldn’t be as fun as fighting with Byleth would be. 

After an hour’s ride to the village, he met her outside of the inn once more. She waited for him with a wicker basket in one hand, and her sword in the other. 

Her close-lipped smile was a wonderful greeting to his excited heart, “Are you ready? There’s a nice field a half mile out I thought we could eat breakfast in…” she tensed at an afterthought, “Have you eaten already?” 

“Just a pastry,” he dropped from his horse, feet hitting the ground firmly as he stood before Byleth, “I slept in late and was in quite the hurry to meet you.”

“Well, that’s nice of you,” her eyebrows raised, “I made bacon and sweetcakes.”

“You cooked? I thought travelers only ate jerky and grilled bear.”

She looked away, “A friend of mine near Gaspard taught me, he’s wonderful. We really should hurry though,” she mused, “It’s getting cold.”

“Right.” He lodged his foot into the saddle, pulling himself up onto his mount and holding his hand out for her. She pushed the basket into the crook of her elbow and took his offering, letting herself be pulled up behind him in the saddle. 

Her arms snaked around his waist, fingers knitting together as they rested in front of his stomach. It was the closest he’d ever been to a girl, and he felt like an awkward, hormonal teenager again. 

“Direct me,” he informed lightly, slowly, “I’m afraid I don’t know the field you’re talking of.”

Faerghus didn’t have many fields, that was to say the least. There were valleys between mountains, more mountains, and many cliffs. The Talitean plains were the main fields of the country, and had only come about from years of farming and terraforming the lands around it. 

Yet, she pointed her hand in the direction, and he led the mount towards it. Jeralt was nowhere to be seen, though Dimitri swore he could see an angry glare from behind the curtains of the inn window. 

“I know it’s a little odd to be having a picnic before sparring,” Byleth spoke over the clopping of the horse’s hooves, “I’m just excited, I guess.”

Dimitri found his own stomach swirling in a mix of excitement and nervousness himself. He glanced at her over his shoulder, “Oh?”

He felt her nod against his back, “I don’t usually make friends on our travels. It’s rather difficult for me. And nobody at the church really likes me.”

Dimitri paused, “The church?”

“Yes. It’s where my mother was from, though we’re originally from Western Faerghus, we settled down in Garreg Mach.”

“I went to the Officers Academy there, I wonder if we ever crossed paths?”

“Probably not, I was gone a lot with my father, and as I said, not very popular.”

He raked through his memories, wondering if he had ever seen her, even once. It would’ve been an interesting development, at least, for them to have been in the same place at the same time. It was so very interesting, that he forgot that he was playing the part of a common traveler, and not many common travelers attended the Academy. 

Byleth was the first to catch on, cocking her head in curiosity, “You didn’t tell me much about yourself yesterday during tea. You went to the Academy?”

He grimaced. His head was facing away from her, and with her sitting behind him she wouldn’t easily see the look of pain flashing over his face. “Oh, it was a long time ago. I think I was their charity case, to be honest.”

She hummed in thought, “They do like those, don’t they?”

They did. Anything to make the church feel better. Even Lady Eisner was offered for the arranged marriage as a way to make the church look charitable for helping out the Kingdom. 

Dimitri rode on through the forest, allowing Byleth to point in which direction he should go. The trees began to clear out, the thickness and thorns becoming less common as he steered his obedient horse. Her hands remained around him, and her breath hot on his back through his plain woolen jacket. 

She wore nice clothes, but not anything near what a noble would wear. Her hair was brushed, and pulled into a choppy braid thrown over her shoulder, and a brown vest under her too-big jacket. Byleth wore the odd look well, it suited her in a way it would suit no other. 

“What’re you and your father doing in this part of the country?” Dimitri filled the comfortable silence with small talk. It was a question that had been nagging softly at him since they met. Neither of them seemed particularly busy with any jobs. 

She sighed, and her arms loosened. She pulled away, “Go left.”

He went left, and waited silently for her response. 

Eventually, she seemed to work up the desire to speak, though it was begrudging, “We’re here for the prince’s wedding this Sunday.”

Stay calm. Stay cool. He gulped, and forced a smile as he followed her direction through the trees, “You must quite loyal to the Blaiddyds to travel just for the wedding.”

“I suppose you could say that.”

Dimitri would not pry any longer. He wanted to escape the subject as quickly as possible, and as casually as it would allow. “I’ll be there too. Perhaps we could save a dance for each other.”

“Perhaps.”

Or perhaps she would see that _he_ was the prince, and she would be disgusted with his blatant dishonesty. Perhaps she would slap him, and yell at him for being her friend without even telling her his real name. He doubted that there would be any dances saved. 

Yet, he couldn’t stop lying! It was ingrained in him, a part of his identity as Dima the Traveler. With the field of flowers approaching through the treeline ahead, he couldn’t possibly tell Byleth who he was now. Heading back to the village would be far more awkward than he could possibly handle. 

Perhaps he could tell her when they arrived back after sparring? Yes, that was a good idea. He nodded to himself, decision made. 

The field, at least, was beautiful. Without warning, Byleth shimmed off the horse and landed on her feet, running into the middle of the meadow. 

Dimitri kicked the side of the beast softly to slow it’s pace, and let himself off. While Byleth was plopping down into a bed of flowers, Dimitri only watched with subdued excitement. 

Dedue would’ve adored it, he most likely could’ve told him every single species that grew there. He’d have to take him and Mercedes one day, perhaps for their anniversary. 

Byleth looked at him as he tied the horse up to a thin tree, “Isn’t it beautiful?”

“It is,” there was no denying that, “I didn’t know things like this even grew in Faerghus.”

She plucked a light pink wildflower, stuffing it into a part of her braid as the young girls in the villages often did. Her smile was soft, subtle, but shown brighter than the sun. 

“Why did you cover your smile before?” The question was out of his mouth before he could stop himself. Byleth froze, her lips falling and her hand being raised to cover her face in an instant. 

“I don’t even notice half the time,” she spoke from behind her hand, “I didn’t think it was even that noticeable.”

He joined her among the flowers, “It’s no big deal, of course, I was just curious.” Gently, he wrapped a hand around her wrist, and pulled her palm away from her mouth, “Your smile is lovely.”

Byleth offered him one. He returned it in the same way. She looked as if she was used to this conversation from people, “I’ve been told my smile is a bit intimidating before.”

“They were lying.”

A beat of silence. Byleth looked away, wanting to tear herself from the subject. “I hope you don’t have allergies. Father was sneezing endlessly when we found this place.”

“I don’t know if I do or not, I’ve never been to an area like this.” He eyed the pink flower twisted into her dark hair. It contrasted, but looked as if it belonged. His own hair was long enough to braid into something stubby and ugly, but the light color of the wildflowers would’ve just blended in with his blond. 

Byleth watched him with her fetching smile and her fetching eyes, “I give you permission to still come here after I’m gone.”

“You own this meadow?”

“I do, sir, I do.”

“Well, I think the King owns this meadow.”

She frowned, “The king owns nothing. He may think he owns everything, but he owns nothing. And that’s that.”

“King Regent Rufus certainly does think tha-”

“No. King Derek Blaiddyd - whatever his name is.”

“ _Derek_ Blaiddyd?”

“I don’t pay enough attention,” she huffed, “It starts with a D.”

Dimitri tensed. He would ignore being called ‘Derek’, though he couldn’t blame her for not paying much attention. He certainly was too boring to remember. “He isn’t a King yet.”

“But he will be, won’t he,” Byleth pushed, now looking serious as she twiddled with a blade of grass, “All Kings think they own everything. And that poor girl that’s marrying him, he doesn’t own _her_ either.”

Dimitri certainly didn’t feel like he owned everything. In fact, it was quite the opposite. He barely even owned his own mind. 

But, she was right. He didn’t own Lady Eisner either. He’d never dream of it. He didn’t even _want_ to own her. 

Shrugging, he tried his best to look nonchalant, “You’re correct, she’s her own person.”

She gestured at him with a wilted pink flower, “Right. She is.”

“You seem very passionate about this.”

“I am.”

“She’s from Garreg Mach as well, at least I hear. Do you know her?”

Byleth shrugged. “I don’t. Let’s just eat breakfast, it’s getting colder by the minute.”

And it truly was. She rustled in the wicker basket, pulling out small plates that she had pilfered/borrowed from the inn and handing one to him. After depositing cold bacon and a sweet cake onto his plate, she began making her own. 

“I brought tea as well, but only in canteens,” she pulled the teabags from a pouch, “I didn’t want to risk breaking my cups.”

Her cups _were_ quite exquisite, and she obviously treasured them. Dimitri watched as she boiled water in a canteen with a fire spell on the tips of her fingers, and deposited the tea bags into the water with a small ‘plop’. 

“I’ve never been on a picnic,” he admitted as he chewed on the sweetcake, “this is wonderful.”

She eyed him, “How’s that taste?”

Like nothing. It was simply a gooey bread texture on his tongue. “Very good.”

Her head cocked, “Thank you, Dima.”

Another lie to add to the list. He wondered if he could ever stop now. 

After breakfast and morning tea was finished, then put away into the basket, the sparring began. 

It was entirely standard, not exciting within the first few minutes. She unsheathed her sword, taking an instance swipe at Dimitri’s midriff. He pulled back just in time to jab with his lance, and she dodged with admirable speed. Another swipe, another surprise swing of a lance, blocked by her blade. 

Dimitri had been so focused on getting past her defenses, that he found himself not paying proper attention to Byleth’s footwork. She kicked Dimitri’s legs out from under him before he could react, sending him stumbling onto his bottom into a bed of colorful weeds. 

Before he could retaliate, she stood over him, pointing her sword at his neck with a playful expression. The tip of her blade lingered against his skin and raised his chin up to meet her eyes, “I have a game I’d like to play, Dima.”

His brow raised. The sun illuminated behind her. “Game?”

“If _you_ win, I’ll tell you my biggest secret.”

“And if you win?”

“You tell me yours.”

Risky. Entirely too risky. “I don’t think that’s a very good idea.”

She pulled back, casually sheathing her sword and turning her head away. He stood from his spot on the ground and brushed the crushed flowers off his back as he watched her ignore him pointedly. “I suppose we’ve done enough sparring for the day, then…”

“What?” He was taken aback, “It’s only been a minute at the most!”

Byleth looked at him, “I only spar with those willing to risk something. You won’t fight me for real if you don’t have a motive for winning.”

“Can my motive for winning not be…” he thought for a moment, spreading his palms out at his sides as his shoulders tensed, “simply to win?”

“No. You’ll still go easy on me.”

“I promise I won't.”

“Hit me, then.”

He jabbed his lance at her, and she dodged easily. 

“You’re being slow on purpose,” she reprimanded as she went for another kick at his stomach, and he stepped back just at the right moment to dodge, “fight for real, Dima!”

Fine. If she wanted to fight for real, he would fight for real. He simply couldn’t afford to lose.

He was the Prince, soon to be King, of Faerghus. He’d fought many battles, led calvaries into the most dangerous of situations, and trained every day without fail. Byleth was good, but not good enough. 

So he thought, until she beat him. 

It was only five minutes later, both Byleth and Dimitri panting and sweating from the excursion. His lance lay several feet away in the flowers, just out of reach. Byleth’s sword rested gently on his neck as they stared at each other. 

She offered a smile, hair falling around her like a curtain, “I win.”

She certainly did. 

Dimitri’s stomach churned and he couldn’t help but frown. Byleth only looked amused at his displeasure as she pulled away and sheathed her sword. He sat up, heart racing, and covered in weeds from being knocked down so harshly. 

“You fight like a mercenary,” he commented as she picked up his lance, holding it out for him to take, “I didn’t know we were allowed to throw daisies in each other’s eyes.”

“I usually prefer sand, but all I could grab were daisies.”

He took the lance, twisting it over his shoulder and sighing. She gave a great heave and plopped down next to him with exhaustion. He watched as she threw her head back and looked at the sky.

Her neck was so bare, so open. A perfectly soft place to touch, it looked like. 

And his hormonal awkwardness returned as if he was 12 again. He scowled and forced his eyes away, instead staring at a particularly large hyacinth growing nearby, “Do you still demand my secret?”

“Oh, of course.”

She was relentless. Dimitri had no idea that he’d be charmed by such a wicked smile. 

He was weak. Truly.

“Women are dangerous creatures,” he informed, his own lips twisting into a half smirk, “I only know you for two days and you’re already demanding my biggest secret.”

“Well, I had to beat it out of you,” she chuckled, “I didn’t exactly use my charm.”

“I prefer it this way.”

“I didn’t think you preferred it at all.”

“I don’t,” he shrugged, “but you _did_ beat me, so I suppose I have to comply.”

And comply he did, in the most dishonestly honest way possible. 

Dimitri racked his brain for a moment, trying to find the vaguest words that he could muster. “My secret, hm…” thinking, processing, wondering, “it’s rather embarrassing.”

And it wouldn’t be a lie. It most certainly was _not_ his biggest secret, and it was truly only a secret to Byleth. Everybody else in the Kingdom knew but her. 

She waited patiently for him. 

He went on, sheepishness slowly devouring his mind. He would just spit it out, rip it off like a bandaid.

“My family has gotten me engaged, and I’ve never been in a relationship before. So I’m marrying this woman I’ve never met, and I’ve never even kissed someone. You holding onto me while riding here was the closest I’ve been to a woman, truthfully,” that was the most embarrassing part, he supposed, “I’m resentful, and I’m scared, and I’m frankly really annoyed that this is happening.”

Her eyes were wide. Silence fell as he exhaled from speaking so quickly. 

Byleth was the first to break the pause, leaning in to him and cocking her head, “You’re not the Prince, are you?”

“N-No!” He waved his hand wildly, “My wedding is… _two_ weeks from now!”

It was the worst lie he’d ever executed, yet Byleth drank every word sincerely. Compassion grew on her face, and she put a hand to her chest, “Dima, goodness. That’s… the same as me.”

“...What?”

“I’m being married off too,” she nodded sincerely, “Me and my father are traveling together right now because it’s the last time we’ll ever have to ourselves. And I’ve never been in a relationship either, I’m rather scared.”

He was shocked, taken aback. Musing, he twisted a weed around just to have something to fidget with, “I didn’t think arranged marriages were so common.”

“Oh, “ she waved a hand nonchalantly, “they happen all the time.”

He was more sheltered than he thought. 

Byleth drew closer, and Dimitri found his attention being stolen by her proximity. She smelled of lavender, and her hair was soft under the sunlight above. She smiled as if he was the only person in the world, “I have an idea.”

His breath had been taken away, but he found it after a minute of absolute blank mindedness, “Y-Yes?”

“We’re both quite inexperienced,” she began, looking down awkwardly, “and I know I’ll never see you again after my marriage.”

“I don’t think I’ll see you either.”

“Right. So why don’t we....” she shifted uncomfortably, then looked at him once more, “practice being in a relationship together?”

He blinked. 

She rambled on, more quickly than ever, “I-I know it sounds weird, Dima. But hear me out, it won’t mean anything. We’ll just be friends, not in a real relationship, and I think if we practice on each other then we’ll both feel much better when in our respective marriages.”

Slowly, and shocked, he finished her thought, “And we’ll never see each other again afterwards.”

She nodded, “Yes.”

“I…” It was rare that Dimitri found himself at a loss for words. ‘Uh’ wasn’t particularly intelligent sounding, but it was the only thing coming from his mouth. Byleth stared at him with more confidence than he could ever dream of having. 

“It’s okay to say no,” she interrupted his ‘uhh’-ing, “it won’t hurt my feelings.”

Dimitri’s response was immediate and rushed, “It’s not that I’m saying no! I just… am still taking it in.”

“It’s a lot to think about, but really there would not be any feelings involved.”

“Is that…” he furrowed his brow in thought, “right to do, though? Is it okay to kiss and touch someone that you have no intention of feeling anything for?”

She huffed,, “I think it’s okay, it’s just practice. I’m in the same boat as you, I’m terrified. I don’t even know how to kiss a man!”

It was comical, the look on her face. Dimitri supposed that he had the same ‘deer caught in the light’ wide eyed expression. They mirrored each other’s discomfort, until he managed to laugh, “I feel like we’re kids.”

She snorted, “It is kind of childish, isn’t it?”

Incredibly so, but neither of them had gotten the chance as children. Now, as adults, it was the perfect time. 

Neither of them know who the other truly was, and they wouldn’t see each other after being married. Dimitri found himself growing warm to the idea, resting his hand on top of Byleth’s and sending her a reassuring nod, “I’ll do it.”

Byleth genuinely looked grateful. It was the oddest way he’d helped one of his civilians, but his nervousness was beginning to melt away as she looked up at him. “Thank you.”

“Are we keeping this from Jeralt?”

Her eyes widened, “Yes, of course. He’d murder you.”

“Noted.” 

“Shall we, uh, _start_ tomorrow?”

He gulped, “Like a date?”

“Yes,” she nodded slowly, “like a date.”

**Wednesday**

Dimitri had a date. With a friend. A friend date.

He wasn’t exactly sure what to wear. 

“My lord, it fits you beautifully,” the tailor flitted about him with a long measuring tape, eyes wide and calculating as he inspected every inch of the Prince, “You cut a dashing figure.”

Dimitri didn’t _feel_ very dashing. His reflection showed dark eye bags, pale skin, and unbrushed hair. He ran his fingers through his scalp in an attempt to tame the blond madness on the top of his head, “You don’t think it’s too showy?”

“Not at all!”  
  


The height of his tone told Dimitri that he did, indeed, think it was too showy. 

Yet, there was not enough time left to make another wedding garment for him. The thick cotton of his overcoat was imported from Southern Adrestia, and his vest, suspenders, and undershirt had been dyed very particularly to match the badges and crests of honor pinned to the coat. His boots were newly polished, leather with expensive laces, and his slacks were gingerly stuffed into said boots with tailored care. 

How he wished he could just wear his Great Lord’s armor, it was regal enough. Loog had worn the same armor, for goodness sake. Yet Rufus and the wedding planner insisted upon the intricate fabrics of a wedding suit. 

He felt like a stuffed sausage. The man that stared back at him in the mirror was not Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd. 

And he certainly did not want to wear this nonsensical wedding suit to meet Byleth for his date - which he was already late for. 

“It’s fine,” he stepped off the stage and avoided looking in the mirror, “just loosen up the undershirt a bit and we’ll be good.”

“Oh,” the measuring tape was held up like an expectant weapon, “let me jus-”

“You have my measurements,” it was a command Kingly enough to stop the tailor midstep, “you don’t need anymore.”

With that, he shed the jacket, and unbuckled the dreaded suspenders. The tailor cleared his throat and busied himself with gathering Dimitri’s shed clothes. He walked as he left the dressing room, like a snake leaving his very fancy, imported skin behind. 

Now in a loose white undershirt and having replaced the slacks with his riding pants, he left the small building that the tailor claimed his center of operations. It was on the West side of the castle grounds, and Dimitri needed to make his way to the East, where the horses waited. 

He was late for his first ever date, yet he had no idea what he and Byleth were even doing! Practicing holding hands, perhaps, it was always good to start slow. 

The prince ran past servants and guards as quickly as he could. Dedue had been given the day to spend with Mercedes, though Dimitri felt guilty at having not spent much time with his friend since last weekend. To be with his wife, at least, would give him something to fill his day, rather than wandering around the castle with no Prince to retain. 

As Dimitri approached the stables to escape for the third time that week, he thought of yesterday’s events. 

The ride back to the village was an awkward one, yet Byleth rested her head on his back so peacefully. The goodbye, even, was incredibly awkward, but sweet in an adolescent way. He swore that Jeralt was still glaring at him from the inn window.

Dimitri had spent yesterday evening in a thoughtful daze, and had startled at even the smallest of sounds. Rufus only eyed him across the table at dinner with suspicion. 

This Wednesday morning, he had been informed of his fate with the tailor, and had promptly skipped breakfast to get the fitting done and over with. As much as he despised being the elegantly stuffed sausage, he had a feeling Lady Eisner would adore the suit. Noble ladies always adored that sort of thing. 

“Hello,” he greeted the stablemaster, who was not surprised at all to see him, “I’ll have my usual mount.”

“Right,” he went about gathering the horse, “She smelled quite good yesterday. Like flowers.”

Dimitri had caught his beloved horse rolling around in a lavender patch in the meadow. He didn’t have the heart to stop the animal from perfuming itself. “Sorry about that. A little girl in the Market District rubbed some herbs on her.”

The worker lit up as he handed over the reins, “How nice of you to visit the people! My mother works there!”

“I’ll have to tell her hello.”

“Please do!”

Wonderful. Now, to keep his appearances up, Dimitri had to take a detour into the market district and tell Jerry’s old mother hello. He would be even more late for his ‘date’ - friend date, that was.

Byleth awaited him on the porch of the inn as per usual. There was not even a trace of annoyance on her face as she watched him approach, chewing on a peach and eyes lingering. 

He nearly jumped off his horse and ran to her, “I’m so sorry! I know it’s later than we said we’d meet, but I had a few chores that needed taken care of, and people just kept talking to me, and then I got sidetracked in the market and bought a new book, and then-”

She took another bite of her peach. Her silence halted Dimitri’s rambled explanation. 

He sighed, shoulders losing tension as he realized that she truly, honestly, didn’t care. 

Byleth threw the pit aside as she finished her fruit, “Life happens. It’s fine.”

“Thank you.” His smile was grateful, and stomach losing it’s anxiety as she returned the smile with a small one of her own. 

He wondered about Lady Eisner, if she would be so patient with him. She certainly would have to be, as his level of busy-ness would only grow after the coronation. 

“So,” he shifted in place, holding the reins of the horse in one hand and stuffing his other into the pocket of his usual woolen commoners jacket, “what’re we doing today?”

She wiped her hands on her pants, “Goodness, isn’t that for you to decide? I picked out yesterday’s thing.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know of any meadows to take you.”

“Tragic.”

“You’re getting better at sarcasm.”

“Why thank you.”

He racked his brain. What did girls like? What did he like that girls would like? And how could they possibly turn a date into a way to practice being in a relationship?

He realized, suddenly, that no matter how late he stayed up the night before pondering over his situation - he still had absolutely zero ideas or answers. 

“We could...” he spoke without thinking, “play cards?”

She furrowed her brows, “Is that something couples do?”

“I… don’t know… uh,” how intelligent he sounded again with the ‘uhs’, “we could drink?”

“Again, is that something couples do?”

“I think so, but it doesn’t sound terribly romantic.”

“Maybe that’s more of a having been married for years thing.”

“Well, we’re both going to be in our own respective marriages soon.”

A pause for thought. Byleth hummed, then nodded, “You’re right. Let’s drink.”

It wasn’t even lunch yet, and the two burst into the tavern ready for anything. Jeralt watched them from a table, and after telling their orders for beer to the owner, he gestured for them to approach the seats in front of him. 

Dimitri carried both Byleth’s drink and his as she walked in front of him. At least that was one romantic thing, to carry her drink - even if he did spill it on his shoe a little. 

Jeralt greeted the two with a raised brow, “What’s going on here?”

Byleth was the master at acting casual, “We’re having a drink. And possibly playing cards.”

He blinked, brows furrowed. 

His daughter went on obliviously, “That’s what you and mother did, wasn’t it?”

“Why… does that matter?”

Dimitri stepped in to save the situation, setting the frothing mugs of beer on the table gingerly. “We’re having an argument over what married couples do, but neither of us know.”

Byleth nodded, “Yes, an argument.”

“That’s a weird thing to argue over,” he snorted, “but okay, whatever. Your mom and I wouldn’t drink together, she’d embroider while I trained.”

She stiffened, “I despise embroidery.”

He waved a hand, gesturing to her beer and waving for her and Dimitri to take the seats. They did so, and Jeralt pulled a deck of old cards from the bag beside his seat, “Some couples may drink and play cards, who knows? Not that you two are a couple… right?”

It was the most fatherly Dimitri had seen the man yet. He sent him a tight smile, “Not at all. It was just a friendly debate to fill time.”

“Better be,” he flicked a card towards him, “I deal. The game is poker, no money bets because I don’t have any.”

It was in that very moment that Dimitri realized one very important feature of his life. 

He had never once played poker. 

“I only know bridge.”

Byleth eyed him, “Are you secretly an old lady?”

“It was mainly old women that taught me, actually.”

His nannies and nurses had entertained themselves with cards when he was a child. He was, apparently, the calmest Blaiddyd boy to have ever been born, and would rarely cry. He heard stories of just sitting in one place for hours playing with the same two block toys while his caretakers played bridge. 

As he grew older, he began watching their games silently. It was the only card game he’d ever learned, or played. And that was only once when they were down a player. 

Poker was not a game allowed in the castle. Rufus would often play with a fortunate servant here and there in his room, but it was a little known secret among the people. Dimitri had never even seen poker being played before. 

Jeralt waved a hand, “Fine. Dima, you’re on a team with By.”

On a team meant being able to see each other’s cards. Byleth scooted closer to him, and Dimitri closer to her. He could smell the fragrance of her once again as they nearly cuddled at the table behind the fan of cards she held. 

Regret flashed across Jeralt’s face. “Hands up here.”

Dimitri didn’t understand. He slowly raised both hands, “Like this?” He wondered if it was part of the game.

“Don’t let me see those going under the table now, kid.”

He didn’t really get why they would go under the table anyway. Simply nodding, he returned to leaning into Byleth, who glanced up at him with a small smile. 

Jeralt watched. Frowning. 

Dimitri sent him a smile. Unaware and entranced by the smell of strawberries. 

He was like a hormonal teenager again. And perhaps cards and beer truly was romantic. With Byleth’s arm brushing against his, he couldn’t help but be pleased at his choice of date. 

Even if it did include remaining under Jeralt’s stony glare. 

“So, we’ll play this one,” she murmured to him, raising two cards for him to see. He leaned in closer to hear, and her breath smelled of beer - not an unpleasant scent at all, “and it’s not much, but it’s a start.”

“Thank you, great professor,” he teased slowly, “I’m learning so much.”

“We’ve just started! Don’t be a suck up.”

“I can’t help it.”

“Yes,” Jeralt intervened loudly, “you can.”

He supposed he could. For the sake of her father, he leaned back a bit and sent him an embarrassed smile. “My apologies.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

Dimitri took another sip of his bitter beer while Byleth played the cards she picked, and was instantly rebutted by a much better play from Jeralt. Dimitri set his mug down, “What happened?”

Byleth ignored him, pushing her wet napkin forward on the table, “Bet.”

“Your napkin?” Jeralt raised a brow, “Okay, fine. Call.” He pushed his own napkin to the middle on top of hers.

Dimitri had no idea what was happening. He assumed if there was money, that would be in the middle. Yet, there was nothing else on the table to bet. 

Byleth gazed at her cards with critical eyes, and pulled out four, “See, Dima, this is a two pair. Not very good.”

He leaned in to look simply to have an excuse to be closer to her, “I see.”

She laid them on the table, and Jeralt only smirked. “Raise.” He fished a hand into his pocket, pulling out a piece of fuzz and setting it on top of the napkins.  
  


“Damn,” Byleth muttered, “do you have anything, Dima?”

On the spot, he quickly dug into his jacket. His hand made contact with an even larger piece of fuzz. He held it up for inspection, “Will this do?”

She nodded in thanks and he placed it on the table. 

Dimitri hadn’t drank in so long that the weak beer felt strong on his tongue. He gulped it down as Byleth murmured the rules and instructions to him, though they were losing terribly. Dimitri pulled even more fuzz, and one paperclip, from his pocket to contribute to the middle of the table. 

The smirk remained on Jeralt’s lips. He supposed that was his poker face, unending confidence. Dimitri feared that he just looked nervous. 

Byleth had finished her own beer after several moments, raising a hand to call the barkeeper over to make another order. As Dimitri drank alongside the father and daughter pair, a thought occurred to him. 

“You’re from Western Faerghus, correct?”

Byleth looked at him in curiosity, “Yes?”

“Well, we’re in Northern Faerghus.”

“Yes?”

“What’s made specially in Northern Faerghus?”

Jeralt snorted. Byleth only narrowed her eyes in confusion. 

A beat of silence. Jeralt sighed, “Scotch, kid. The Blaiddyd region is all about scotch.”

Dimitri attached himself to the idea, now perked up and waving the barkeeper to him, “Let me treat you both! I have some gold saved!”  
  


“Hell, I won’t refuse!” Jeralt laughed, and as if to emphasize his point, he flapped a royal flush down onto the table. Byleth groaned and buried her face into her hands as Jeralt dragged the napkins, fuzz, and one paperclip to his chest. 

“I’ll take a big glass of that Scot.”

“ _Scotch_ ,” Dimitri corrected, “and no, I don’t think you should. You use a small glass, and you sip it.”

Her nose crinkled in the cutest way possible. Dimitri found himself smiling. 

“Alcohol isn’t for sipping,” she reprimanded, “it’s for guzzling.”

“Scotch is for sipping, trust me,” he sent a smile to the approaching barkeeper, “I’ll take a bottle of your Wellers, please.”

“You sure?” He laughed, “that’s-”

“I’ll take it, please.” 

Dimitri didn’t want the price said aloud, though he knew Jeralt wouldn’t care. It was Byleth that would’ve argued with him over spending so much on liquor. The barkeeper shrugged and smiled as if his customer was stupid, only turning around and going down into the cellar. 

“Weller,” Jeralt whistled, “I haven’t had that poison in ages.”

Byleth stiffened, “Poison? Is that why you don’t drink much of it?”

“Yep.”

“Nasty.”

Dimitri couldn’t help but feel pride, “They make that right here in Blaiddyd. I’ve visited the distillery myself before.” Rufus adored scotch, but would never let Dimitri drink much. 

The keeper set a small shot glass down in front of Byleth. Dimitri lifted his own as if to demonstrate, and took the tiniest of sips. The caramel liquid had no taste for him, but the burn remained on his throat. 

Jeralt, on the other hand, shot it straight down. 

Byleth gasped, “I thought you were supposed to sip!”  


“You shoot the first one,” he explained with a cough, “then you sip. And drink yourself some water in between.”

Byleth shot hers. She coughed, and Dimitri patted her back affectionately. 

After her coughing ended, Dimitri shot his own.

What the hell, he thought. What could it hurt?

  
  
  
  


**Thursday**

“I want to die.”

That was the prince’s explanation for laying face down in bed at 1 p.m. Rufus should understand, he _had_ to understand. The smell of scotch permeated the air, and the King Regent pinched his nose as he stared at his hungover nephew.

“I guess I can’t blame you,” he was speaking much too loudly for Dimitri’s taste, “you’re getting a pass for your wedding, you know. Otherwise, I’d kick your ass.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

He snorted, “Are you still drunk?”

“No.”

“When did you get home last night?”

“Midnight, I think.” Dimitri rolled over in bed, covering his eyes with his forearm to shield himself from the light, “Close that window, please.”

The maid standing behind Rufus tittered to the window, pulling the great velvet curtains closed and allowing shadows to take the room once more. The prince sighed in relief. 

Annoyed, Rufus only watched, “Where were you?”

Another joyous opportunity for dishonesty. Dimitri frowned, “The distillery. Is it a crime for me to want to celebrate my wedding?”

“Celebrate?”

“Dread, I mean.” At least that much was honest. 

“I’m done here,” the Regent sighed and stepped away, the maidservant following him like a puppy at his heels, “Get yourself cleaned up, you smell like sweat.”

He was sure he did. The air stunk with something disgustingly sweet, mixed with the smell of vinegar. He had no desire to investigate whatever had caused such an aroma. Groaning in disgust as Rufus shut the door behind him, Dimitri was alone to his thoughts once more. 

“I’m never drinking again,” he announced, “not even for a date.”

Of course, he would return to the village once again, almost immediately, to find out what he had done when drunk. His memory was fuzzy, and he knew something had happened between him and Byleth. 

It wouldn’t be anything terrible, as Jeralt would’ve never allowed canoodling of that sort. Yet, there was a nagging feeling that there was something very, very important waiting for him in the village. 

After a quick bath and new clothes, Dimitri shielded his eyes from the afternoon sun and jogged to the horse stables. 

The stablemaster only smirked, “You wouldn’t have gotten home if not for your girl here,” he patted his mount’s side, “she’s a smart one.”

“Yes,” he managed a polite chuckle, “I’ll be relying on her once again, it seems.”

The worker eyed him as if the gossip mill was turning in front of his face. He wondered what nonsense he’d hear next ‘didn’t you hear? The prince is an alcoholic’ most likely. 

He assisted in saddling the horse up, and left immediately. As much as his head complained from the bouncing of the ride, he leaned lower onto her mane and shut his eyes closed. He could ignore the pain long enough, and rest in the village after he’d found his answers. 

Byleth didn’t wait outside as she usually was. He stopped at the inn, tying his horse up and running through it’s doors to find her. The owner sighed when he saw him, “You haven’t paid me yet, kid.”

Dimitri froze, “Oh, I’m sorry,” glancing around the dining room to make sure Byleth nor Jeralt were not around, he dug into his rucksack to pull a large pouch of gold out, “Will this do?”

The owner’s eyes were wide, “Y-Yes! That’s perfect!” He swiped the heavy pouch from his hand.

Dimitri didn’t quite care in that moment, only lowering his voice and leaning in, “Don’t tell anyone that I gave you that, okay? I don’t want people knowing I’ve been carrying that much.”

“Your secret’s safe with me, buddy,” he laughed, “I get it. Times’re rough. Hopefully, that marriage thing with those royals will help folks like me, and then folks like you can come drink and spend as much as you want.”

“I don’t know about that. I don’t want a repeat of last night again… What happened, might I ask?”

He put his hands to his hips in thought, “Oh, nothing much. That older guy broke a table, and got into a fight. Three times.”

“What did _I_ do?”

“You mainly just cuddled with your girlfriend all night.”

Girlfriend. All night. Cuddling. He stiffened, “Where is she?”

“Upstairs, second room on the left. Been up there all day.”

It was already the afternoon, and it was the longest Dimitri had ever slept in. Byleth seemed to be having the same type of day, having been in her room until 2 pm. He thanked the innkeeper and made his way up the stairs, following the directions to finally knock on her door with a soft rapt. 

A quiet, croaking voice called to him through the wall, “Come in.”

Dimitri peaked inside, “By?”

She was just a lump under a blanket on the bed. The lump shifted, “Dima?”

“I wanted to see how you were doing.”

A foot stuck out from the end of the lump, tapping absently in response, “I’m fine. Splendid, actually.”

“Are you?”

“As long as I stay under here, yes.”

Dimitri wished he could’ve done the same. He closed the door behind him and walked to her bed, taking a seat on the edge and patting her leg. She only squeaked, a cute sound that brought a smile to his face. 

“Do you remember what happened last night?” He asked, “The owner said that we… uh, cuddled.”

“We did,” a sigh from the lump, “but that’s all.”

Relief flooded like a broken dam. The tension in his shoulders released, and he sighed and shut his eyes, “Thank the Goddess.”

In his relief, he didn’t notice her sudden stillness. Her foot stopped tapping, sliding back under the blanket and becoming very still. She could’ve stopped breathing, and Dimitri wouldn’t have taken notice. 

Several beats of silence passed. He finally looked at the blanket and patted down the top, touching her head through the covers, “Are you okay, By?”

“Yes,” a deep sigh, “there’s just one thing.”

“Hm?”

“You didn’t kiss me.”

Another beat of silence. 

She rustled around, and out popped her head. Static from the wool made her dark hairs stand up in electric attention, and there were bags under her eyes as she stared at him. Even when tired, she was still beautiful.

Dimitri realized it suddenly. It hit him like a smack to the face. 

He thought Byleth was an absolutely beautiful woman. 

He stared. 

“Dima?”

He could not stare any longer, for fear of her growing creeped out. Forcing his gaze away, he cleared his throat, “Yes?”

“Are you not going to acknowledge what I said?”

“What’d you say?”

“I said,” she frowned in frustration and sat up, the blankets falling around her waist, “you didn’t kiss me. I don’t mean to critique your style of fake practice romance, but it just would’ve been a good moment to kiss me, is all.”

Incredulous, he stared at her once more, “When drunk?”

“Yes, there’s no nervousness or anxiety, and we had so much fun-”

“I’m not going to kiss you when you’re drunk.”

He hoped his eyes weren’t betraying him, but he thought he saw the slightest bit of pink dust her cheeks. 

“I would’ve been okay with it.”

Dimitri shook his head, “ _I_ wouldn’t have. I want my first kiss to be something nice, something that’s not fuzzy. Goddess, I probably would’ve thrown up on you afterwards.”

“Well… that’s nice of you.”

Byleth didn’t have the widest range of emotions, but there was enough to betray her disappointment. She avoided his eyes, her lips quirking into a little frown and the blush on her cheeks fading. He felt his heart skip as he watched her. 

The words came before he could stop, or think, about their consequences, “I can kiss you now.”

Her eyes were on him in a flash, and she let no time pass before pouncing on the opportunity. “Would you?”

Would he? _Could_ he? 

He pat down her hair. The static stuck to his hand, and he laughed as it followed his palm wherever it went. Eventually, he pushed a lock behind her ear, and let his fingers trail down her soft jawline and to her neck. 

“If you want me to.”

“For practice,” she reminded softly, “my friend, just practice.”

He needed the reminder more than her. “Yes, of course. Practice.”

They both leaned. 

His nose brushed against hers. His heart skipped. His breath was stolen. 

Their lips touched, and the world could’ve stopped spinning. Dimitri deepened the kiss, his hand still on the nape of her neck, holding her close as she tilted her head. 

To steady himself, he flattened his palm against the bed and leaned across her body. She returned the kiss with an arch of her back, and her own hands raising to tangle themselves into his hair. 

He had not felt so alive. He had never felt so adored, so loved, so _absolutely_ _hormonal_. She was the universe in that moment, all he could dream to focus on. Her fingers in his hair stroked and scratched and pulled, and he melted into her lips as if he belonged there.

Yet, he ran out of air and couldn’t breathe. 

Pulling away, he inhaled greatly and locked eyes with Byleth. She took a deep breath to match his. “Thanks.”

“No need to thank me,” it was a whisper, for it would’ve been blasphemy to speak any louder and break the moment, “that’s what friends do.”

“Mmhm,” she nodded, leaning in further with her nose brushing against his, “you’re a very good friend.”

“So are you,” he spoke against her lips, “Your fiance is a lucky man.”

Her hands gripped his hair, “ _Y_ _our_ fiance is the lucky one here. But… we should practice more so we know what we’re doing.”

“Right,” another chaste kiss, “you’re so right.”

Somehow, Dimitri and Byleth found themselves spending the entire afternoon kissing and cuddling. There were chaste kisses, deep kisses, hot kisses, and even tongue kisses - which were not exactly Dimitri’s favorite, but he gave it a try anyway. 

Jeralt had only knocked on the door once to ask Byleth if she wanted any food, and Dimitri kept very quiet as Byleth told him no. She promptly locked the door afterwards, and returned to bed. 

For the sake of being a gentleman, Dimitri didn’t join her under the covers, and only lay on top of the blanket beside her. It was experimentation, and nothing more, and would not turn into anything inappropriate. Nothing past kissing and holding. 

But how Dimitri adored kissing. He lay beside her, staring at the ceiling. She was cuddled under the blanket with her head resting peacefully on his chest. Her arm was slung over his stomach, and Dimitri felt more at peace than ever. 

He broke the silence, “If I’m too be honest-”

“I know, I don’t like the tongue kissing either.”

“Agreed, but that’s not what I was going to say.”

“Oh, sorry.”

He sighed in contentment, “I wonder if this is so enjoyable because it naturally _is_ a wonderful thing, or if it’s just you?”

She frowned against his chest, “I was thinking the same thing. I don’t really understand how it could change from person to person. Kissing is just… kissing.”

“You’re right,” he agreed, if only to stay away from the dangerous territory his mind began to enter, “it’s probably the same with every person.”

She hummed, and twiddled the blanket between her fingers as he lay on him. Silence fell once more, and Dimitri found himself reciting the alphabet to keep the improper thoughts away.

Improper thoughts such as ‘wouldn’t it be nice if he and Byleth ran away together and ditched their respective weddings?’ 

Incredibly improper. He frowned. 

No matter how nice kissing her was, it would never be persuasive enough to make him abandon his country. His marriage to Lady Eisner would be the best thing to happen to Faerghus since cheddar cheese. 

And kissing Lady Eisner would be just as enjoyable as kissing Byleth. He just couldn’t comprehend it because he’d never kissed anyone else. 

After another hour of lip locking between the excessive cuddling, evening was beginning to fall outside of her window. Dimitri hadn’t eaten anything all day and his stomach was beginning to complain. 

“I should probably go,” he spared a glance to the window, noticing the sun setting and turning the world orange, “it’s getting late.”

He would’ve gotten up, if Byleth wasn’t sitting on his lap, straddling him with her lips on his neck. Her back arched as he ran a hand down her spine, and she giggled into his skin, “You’re not allowed to go.”

“I have to,” he pulled her closer, “I’ve got dinner with my uncle.”

She jerked away with wide, playful eyes, “ _I’m_ your dinner.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

Huffing, she returned to peppering a line up his neck. It tingled with pleasure, and he tilted his head to allow her better access. As she reached his ear, she whispered, lips brushing against his skin, “I command that you return tomorrow, if you can, and we’ll practice excessive hand holding.”

“As you wish, my lady.”

“In all seriousness, though,” Byleth now pulled away to look him in the eyes with an expression of sincerity, “thank you for this. It’s nice to know, at least. And my husband won’t have to school me on how much to, uh, pucker, and whatnot.”

“Or how wide to open your mouth,” he chuckled at their practice earlier, which was actually quite silly as the two gave tips of ‘oh that’s too wide’ ‘oh that’s weird’ ‘now it’s not wide enough’. He smiled, “ I should be thanking you as well, this has been very educational.”

She still straddled him, sitting on his thighs as if she belonged there. “Well, now with the oddly formal goodbyes out of the way, do you mind if I kiss you again?”

“You don’t have to ask, my friend.”

“Wonderful.”

Byleth put her hands on his cheeks so gingerly, so gently. So unlike any forms of affection he had ever experienced, as the affection in his life had been so few and far between. His heart skipped, nearly doing a gymnastics routine in his chest. 

She leaned in, locking her lips to his. It was unlike how they had been doing for hours, it was soft, loving. And it ended far too early. 

Upon pulling back, her eyes were wide as she whispered, “Do you think you could climb out of the window?”

He was dumbfounded, partly from the kiss, partly from her words. “What?”

“The window,” she nodded towards it as if he didn’t know what a window was, “I don't want my father knowing you were here for so long.”

“I… understand,” he did, as shocked as he was at the thought, “it’s just kind of funny, you know?”

“How so?”

“I’m a 23 year old man, it feels funny to be sneaking out of a woman’s window so her dad doesn’t kick my butt.”

“Well,” she grimaced, “I’m a 25 year old woman, it feels funny to have a man sneaking out of my window as well. But I promise, he _would_ kick your ass. Hard.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

She nodded. He nodded. It was all in agreement. Yet, Byleth would not leave his lap, and would not budge when he nudged her ever so slightly to move. 

She smirked. Sighing, Dimitri stood up with her legs still wrapped around him. He rested his hands under her thighs as she squeaked in surprise at suddenly being picked up. Carrying her to the window, he deposited her into a wooden chair beside it. 

She unwrapped herself from him and sat as he opened the glass and peered outside. It was the back of the inn, facing a line of trees he could disappear into. Yet, it was too high to jump safely from. 

He would have to climb down using the mismatched stones of the building. It would be hard, but worth it to not have to fight Jeralt. Sending Byleth a goodbye smile, and blowing her a teasing kiss, he pushed himself out. 

Rearranging his body so he held onto the ledge, facing the building now, he found a good foothold and began to climb down as Byleth leaned out of the window. 

“Be careful,” she called, “don’t break your tailbone!”

“Oh, goodness, my tailbone,” he drawled, voice strained as he lowered himself onto another foothold, “can’t have that.”

“I really enjoyed tonight.”

Again, his voice was strained, “I-I did too, By.”

“Tomorrow?”

His hand slipped, and he barely found another brick sticking out in time to catch himself. He now clung to the wall like a shocked cat, breathing heavily. 

Byleth winced, “I’ll just, uh, let you focus.”

“Thank you,” Dimitri managed, taking a deep, level breath, “I’ll see you tomorrow, yes.”

“Goodnight,” her smile was enough reward for his trouble, making the stinging of his fingertips numb as happiness and expectation filled his mind instead. 

She returned to her room, and shut the window, but watched as her dear new friend made his way down the rest of the wall, finally feeling solid ground beneath his feet once more. Byleth sent him a wave, and he tiredly returned it.

Inside the tavern, an eruption of cheers reached his ears. He glanced through a lower window into the dining room, and spotted Jeralt punching down the same man he fought yesterday. In one hand he held a sloshing, frothing beer, and took a large chug before sending a kick to the man’s side. The crowd screamed and cheered in drunken joy. 

That was a relief to Dimitri. If Jeralt was as drunk as he was yesterday, he wouldn’t recall ever seeing Dimitri’s familiar horse tied up front, or hearing from the innkeeper that he’d visited Byleth. There was even less of a chance that he’d kick his ass, and that was a comfort. 

Dimitri gathered his horse, smiling from ear to ear. 

It was the best night of the week so far, and obviously the most educational. His head was in the clouds with thoughts of Byleth’s skin under his fingers as he rode back to Fhirdiad. 

  
  
  
  


**Friday**

With the wedding only two quick days away, Dimitri’s level of busy-ness only increased, and he could not make his way to the village until night had fallen. 

Dedue was the only one aware of the prince’s sneaking out, and was sworn to secrecy. His friend had looked at him with a stony expression upon being told where he was going, yet said nothing when Dimitri left that night. Rufus had already turned in for the evening, and Dimitri snuck past the guards in his disguise with no problems. 

Getting to the village was easy enough, only an hour’s ride until he was standing outside of Byleth’s window. The tavern was filled with laughter and warmth, yet Dimitri would take a chance on a very old fashioned method.

He found a small rock, and threw it at the glass. A candle shimmered inside the room, giving him hope that she was there. 

Another pebble throw. His crest desperately wanted to take over, but the rock would’ve shattered the glass and probably given her a heart attack. He held his strength back as he tossed another. 

Finally, Byleth appeared. 

She was confused as she opened it and leaned out to see Dimitri standing on the ground, waiting for her. “I didn’t think you were coming today.”

“I got busy at work,” he explained in a hushed tone, “I’m sorry to be so late.”

“I hope you’re not too overworked to hold a dear lady’s hand tonight.”

His heart jumped. “Never.”

She smiled wickedly. Dimitri didn’t expect her to put one foot on the window sill, and pull herself out of the room with ease. She much more conveniently could’ve just gone down the stairs and met him outside, but she instead looked down at him from her perch. “Ready?”

“Ready for… what?”

Without an answer, Byleth jumped. Dimitri had his arms out immediately, stepping forward to wrap them around her waist as she fell onto him. It was just barely that he resisted the urge to stumble onto his bottom. He’d always had a good center of gravity, nearly immovable in battle, and Byleth was light enough in his arms for him to catch her.

Dimitri held her tightly, her feet off the ground and no room left between their bodies. Her arms snaked around his neck, “Good catch.”

It _was_ quite the good catch. Delighted, he refused to let her go, instead picking her up even more and twirling her around. She buried her face into his shoulder as the air picked up her feet, and he stumbled dizzily. 

Now, with the world excessively spinning, Dimitri stopped and set her down. She stumbled back, but held onto his arm as a life line as she shut her eyes.

“You have no choice but to hold my hand now, I fear I’ll trip if you don’t.”

Concern piqued in him, and he put both hands on her waist to steady her, “Did I spin you too hard? My strength gets the better of me sometimes, I apologize.”

She placed a reassuring hand on his chest, “It’s no problem. Just keep me close so I don’t tumble.”

He’d keep her close even without the threat of tumbling. Leaning in, he pressed a soft, gentle kiss to her head. Her hair was soft under his lips, and waist warm beneath his fingers. “That won’t be too difficult.”

Byleth was hungry as she tangled her fingers into his hair once again and yanked him to her level, lips meeting his and bodies pressing against each other. His hands rested on her lower back, and her other hand stroked up his arm, and to his neck. 

Kissing was still very, very nice. 

The two pulled apart with a huff, foreheads resting against each other. Dimitri smiled tiredly, “Would you like to go on another practice date with me?”

“To practice cuddling and kissing?”

“Yes. Practice makes perfect, you know.”

Another peck from her, another grip onto his hair as she leaned up and caught his lips. He had to tear himself away simply for them to get anywhere. 

“Come on,” he took her hand, which fit in his own so wonderfully, and began walking down a dirt path in the woods. Many from Fhirdiad would come out that way to hike, but the trails would be completely empty at night. 

It was dark, but the moon was full enough to provide enough light. Dimitri could barely see Byleth, yet her hand against his was a constant reassurance. They entered the hiking trail, and walked slowly so as to not trip. 

Byleth stuck close, her arm eventually snaking around to link with his. She sent him a smile that was barely visible in the dark, “I feel I know nothing of what you do when you’re not here.”

And she would never know anything! Unless she happened to see him during his wedding on Sunday, and then she’d most likely hate him for lying to her so terribly. “Isn’t it better that way?”

“Yes,” she sighed, grimacing, “we should tell each other as little as possible, I suppose.”

Playful, he chuckled, “What’s your favorite color, at least?”

“Blue. Yours?”

“I don’t have one.”

“Everybody has a favorite color.”  
  


He shrugged, “You pick for me, then.”

“I pick blue, we’ll have the same favorite,” she offered a subtle smile. 

Dimitri couldn’t see her well, but he could hear the joy in her tone. She lay her head on his shoulder and gave a contented sigh. 

He supposed that blue was a nice color. His eyes were blue, Faerghus’s national color was blue. He wore it quite often, and was told that he looked nice in it. Yet, blue didn’t sit very well with him. The thought wasn’t satisfying enough, and he had no choice but to argue. 

“I take it back, you can’t choose for me.”  
  


She protested, “You said I could.”

“I just realized that I _do_ have a favorite.”

“What is it?”

“Iris.”

“Like the flower? Isn’t that just purple?”

“This specific shade of purple,” he spoke playfully, with a fakely dreamy tone in his voice as he walked arm in arm, her head still resting on him, “Iris’s like to sprout around the start of spring, we have some purple ones growing outside of my window. It’s light, but not violet. It’s just dark enough to be sort of blue, almost, but not quite.”

“That’s a very specific color.”

Dimitri wondered if he should tell her. Would it have been too forward, and simply too ironic to say right after them both deciding to not get to know each other deeply? 

That specific shade was the color of her eyes. The purple irises growing in the castle courtyard had already withered for the year, but her eyes reminded him of their petals. He found himself dwelling on the color, living in it. 

He decided to keep the questions going. It was something simple, nothing too deep or incriminating, but enough to satisfy his curiosity. “What’s your favorite book?”

She hummed in thought before answering, “I’ve only ever read scripture, to be honest.”

He paused, “Only scripture?”

“Not that I wanted to, but Lady Rhea insisted.”

“That’s… sad.” 

To have lady Rhea dictating what a resident of the Monastery read was odd, certainly. It was nothing he’d ever heard of before, but he supposed that being a student was much different than living full time there. Byleth only shrugged as if she was used to it, “I know, but I never really cultivated a love for reading. Do you have a favorite?”

“I used to read a lot as a child, I never have time anymore it seems.”

“What did you like as a child?”

“Fantasy, or adventure,” he smiled nostalgically, “I would read a lot of epic poetry about Loog.”

Softly, as if Byleth was afraid he would disappear any moment now, she drew closer to him. They walked very slowly through the darkness, and the cicadas around them chirped with a reminiscent sound. Dimitri relished in the feeling of her skin on his. 

“Tell me about the books you’ve read,” she asked in a quiet voice, “I’d like to hear about Loog.”

"Well, he was..." very nearly a book character in his mind, rather than great King of old and his ancestor, "kind. And very powerful."

"Like you."

He chuckled in surprise, "I don't think that's quite right."

Byleth took the lead in walking. She slipped her fingers down his arm to tangle with his and pulled him along. She was not even from this part of Faerghus, yet seemed to know the surroundings better than it's future King. "There's a little clearing around here," he heard her mutter, "with a nice log we can sit on."

A log, with moss, and most likely spiders. How romantic. Yet, Dimitri let himself be led through the thicket. Eventually, she seemed to find her mysterious log in the darkness, patting it's bark with a flat hand and humming in her throat. Dimitri watched, his eyes adjusting to the grey of night, "Is this what you do when I'm not here?"

"Hm?"

"Explore?"

"I suppose," he made out a shrug of her shoulders in the dark as she turned to sit on the log, "I've found some of my best fishing spots during exploration."

"You'll have to take me fishing soon."

She patted the spot next to her with a quirk of her lips, "Only if you tell me more about books and Loog."

"What to tell, even..." his racked his mind as he sat and rested his chin in his palm. The air smelled fresh, clean and crisp. As the wind bit through his jacket, he was reminded of camping with his father when young, and Lambert would stay up late to read of Loog's adventures to him. That was moreso the memory he treasured, rather than the story itself. "It was just a good story, I suppose. About justice, and war, about laws and victory."

"I suppose you're quite the righteous type."

He shrugged, "I don't know, honestly."

"What do you do for work, Dima?"

He had been prepared for this question. Smiling, he snorted, "Paperwork."

"What kind?"

"The kind that gives papercuts."

"I bet you're a judge in the high court," she teased with a small push against his arm, "you look down on people and doom them to eternal dungeon-hood!"  
  


"The castle doesn't have a dungeon."

"Oh?"

He had gotten rid of the dungeon at the age of 20, when Rufus had locked up 12 drunken men in there for a week simultaneously. The smell was too much to bear, and a pile of old bones resting in the corner made Dimitri's stomach hurt. It was one of the few royal decrees he'd ever gotten to carry through with. Yet, to save face in front of Byleth, he straightened up, "So I've heard."

"How nice... So what do you really do?"

"What do _you_ do?"

She frowned, "I asked you first."

"But I'm so very curious, my friend. Answer me, and I'll answer you."

He had meditated and prepared on how to evade properly, a game that was often played in the royal court. He wasn't the best at it, but could play well enough to save his skin if needed. Byleth backed away from her questioning and contented herself by leaning on his arm once more, "Fine. Let's just avoid those kinds of questions. It's best to not go there anyway."

She was correct, as always. Yet, another question prodded at the front of his mind. While quite personal, it shouldn't be too deep. "We never spoke again about why you covered your mouth so much before. I noticed that you've stopped."

Again, she frowned, then sighed, "Well, I got the feeling you didn't judge me."

"What's there to judge?"

"My smile is kind of creepy, isn't it?"

Preposterous. He sat up straight, hand resting on her lower back as he looked down at her. She pulled away from his arm to return the look, and he lifted her chin. Her skin, as always, was soft under his fingers. His thumb brushed against her lips, "I love this smile."

The lips quirked up into a smirk, "It's still creepy."

A whisper, so the moment wouldn't shatter. "It's the loveliest smile I've ever seen."

"You should save those lines for your fiance."

It was now his turn to smirk, "I'm practicing."

**Saturday**

Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd’s last day of freedom had arrived. 

“Lady Eisner will be here tomorrow, and hopefully she’ll arrive early enough in the day for you two to meet,” Rufus sounded bored as he looked at his list of to-dos, striking out words and filling in spaces, “wouldn’t that be nice?”

Dimitri felt just as uninterested. “Yes. It would be fine.”

“Do you… even remember her name?”

Of course he did! “Lady Eisner.”

“Her first name?”

He blinked, saying the first thing that came to his mind. “Bianca?”

Rufus blanched, turning pale, “I was hoping you remembered. I forgot too…”

“You… forgot the name of the future Queen of Faerghus?”

He huffed, setting his quill down into the inkwell and tilting his head to send his nephew an incredulous glare, “You did too!”

“Don’t you have the letters from the church talking about her?”

“I burn everything after I read it, you know that.”

No, Dimitri did _not_ know that. It would explain why he could never find anything of use in his Uncle’s files. He sighed, running his fingers through his hair and shaking his head, “Whatever. We’ll just wait for the priest to say it. Anyway, I’m pretty sure it’s Bianca, or Beth, or something.”

“Let’s hope you’re right...” Rufus muttered, returning to his checklist and instantly moving on to the next item of discussion, “Okay, so, we’ve got your suit. And the chapel is all set up… I suppose now we just have to get through this damn rehearsal dinner, and you’re all set.”

“Wonderful.” Dimitri’s tone dripped with sarcasm, something he had become more accustomed to using after several quick lessons from Jeralt during his visits. Rufus only raised a brow at the newfound display from his usually polite nephew. 

In all, Dimitri was not happy. 

He supposed that one would usually be ecstatic the day before one’s wedding, yet all he could think about was that this was his last day with Byleth. 

And no, they _couldn’t_ run away together. 

And no, she had no feelings for him, it was all just practice. 

No matter how tender their touches, no matter how much they kissed, and no matter the late night conversations they had, there were no feelings involved. It had only been a week that he had known her, but he wanted more. 

He wanted the chance to fall in love with her. He wanted the _time_ to do so, for it to be a choice that he could make himself. 

And here fate was, not giving him even an ounce of hope. He would be married tomorrow, and it would not be to Byleth. In fact, he would not ever see her again after tonight, and the thought made his heart ache painfully. 

Rufus had taken notice of his nephew’s sour mood, yet said nothing. He never said anything, never sought out the emotional types of conversations. Dimitri was going to be Dimitri, and Rufus was going to ignore it as best he could. He cleared his throat and returned to his checklist, “Make sure you don’t run off tonight. This dinner is very important.”

It was important, and he knew that, yet he found himself not caring. All of his dear friends would be there, but also the rest of the noble houses of Faerghus - and Dimitri had no energy for their niceties. 

“I’ll try my best,” and he meant it genuinely, “I know I’ve got to just face it. This is happening whether I like it or not.”

Rufus always avoided deep conversations if he could. With a grimace, he clasped his hands and stood, “Okay, great. Well,” he walked around the desk to wrap an arm around Dimitri’s shoulders and lead him out of the room, “now that that’s all settled. Go, uh, take a nap or something.”

He did look quite tired. He had come back late to the castle that night, later than usual. He and Byleth spent the night in the woods, holding each other until she nearly fell asleep on the ground. 

Dimitri complied and left Rufus’s office just as his uncle wished. It was time to be realistic, to stop his anger and desire over something that would not be avoided. 

It was several hours before the rehearsal dinner would begin, and Dimitri had enough time to go to the village. He feigned tiredness, going to his room and slipping out several minutes later when no servants lingered around. 

The stable master asked no questions when he took his horse for the last time that week. Dimitri supposed that he looked too angry to be spoken to, and he truly felt that way.

Byleth was unsuspecting as she awaited his arrival. She sat on the front porch of the inn, as per usual, twirling a flower around her fingers absently. 

The sound of his horse approaching stole her attention, and she lit up like a summer’s day upon seeing him. His anger began to dissolve, melting into something much more complicated. She stood to greet him as he halted his mount in front of her. 

“Good afternoon, kind sir,” her tone was playful, “how do you do this morning?”

“Not well,” he slid from his horse, “but I’m better now.”

“That’s cheesy.”

“Apologies,” he offered a bashful smile as his arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer, “I can’t help it.”

Byleth resisted the urge to kiss him, only smiling and glancing over her shoulder, “My father is inside, we should be careful.”

Of course. Even though practicing, Jeralt still would not appreciate a man defiling his daughter. Especially since she was engaged to be wed soon. Dimitri only smiled tiredly, “I really just need a hug.”

So, a hug she gave. She wrapped her arms around him and lay her head against his chest. Dimitri sighed as he melted into her arms, thanking the Goddess for giving him a friend who fit so wonderfully against him. 

Byleth turned her head so her cheek was against his chest, “Are you okay?”

“My fiance is arriving soon,” he would give no specific details, but just enough to explain his eventual disappearance, “I’m afraid this is the last time I’ll get to see you.”

Byleth was unsurprised, and Dimitri didn’t know what he quite expected from her. She was never the type to be caught off guard. Pulling away, she looked up at him with a furrowed brow, “I understand. We knew this would happen.”

It was not a lie. Yet, he had somehow managed to forget that.

“Yes,” he grimaced, “it’s just rather frustrating.”

She pushed a lock of his hair behind his ear, “Don’t be frustrated. Now we can go into our respective marriages knowing what romance is like. Now you know that telling puns isn’t the right thing to do while making out.”

He smiled, “And now _you_ know that tongue kissing isn’t romantic.”

“We’re both very well practiced now,” she nodded seriously, “I don’t feel as nervous anymore.”

Neither did he, though the nervousness had been replaced with something much worse. 

He had to say it. He had to tell her, and what was there to lose? They wouldn’t see each other again, she’d probably find out his identity and feel betrayed, and he would never get a chance like this again. 

Dimitri looked her in the eyes, taking a deep breath as he readied himself. 

“I wish I was given the chance to fall in love with you.”

Byleth smiled, soaking in his words. “I wish that too. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” it was not, but he would have to accept it no matter what, “we had this, at least.”

“Thanks for being my practice partner.”

“Thank you for being mine.”

“I guess you have to go back now, huh?”

Dimitri glanced at the sky. It wasn’t dark yet, but with Fhirdiad being so far away he didn’t have much time left. He only nodded. 

Byleth accepted it with grace. “I hope the man I marry is someone like you.”

His hand brushed against her cheek, “I’ve been hoping the same thing for myself, actually. I hope she’s patient, like you are, and kind.”

It was the moment. The moment he would leave Byleth behind, never to see her again. Standing in front of the inn, she pressed a kiss to his cheek. “You have the chance to fall in love with her, I hope you take it.”

“I won’t forget you.”

“Please _do_ forget me,” she chuckled, “I’m going to try to forget you.”

Bashful, he smiled, “I guess that would be for the best, huh?”

“Yes.” With that, she kissed his other cheek, and stepped away.

Dimitri watched as she turned, keeping his eyes glued to her back while she walked up the steps and towards the door of the inn. His heart ached, but he was satisfied. 

Sometimes, life did not allow for chances. No matter how much he wished for the time, it was unrealistic, and Faerghus needed a realistic King. 

Byleth didn’t look at him as she opened the door and stepped inside. With the click of the door closing, she was gone. 

She was out of his life forever. 

Dimitri got back on his horse and began his ride back to Fhirdiad. He was ready, prepared, and going to do the rehearsal dinner with his friends. 

He would act like nothing was wrong, and he would do as Byleth requested - he would forget her. 

Because he was getting married tomorrow. He had no choice but to forget her. 

****


	2. That Week

**Saturday Evening**

The concept of a rehearsal dinner was quite odd to the future King of Faerghus. He sat at the head of the table, staring at the guests as they politely murmured between themselves. He could only wonder - what exactly were they rehearsing?

Absolutely nothing, he decided. They were rehearsing nothing, and the dinner was just an excuse to drink more alcohol. 

Sitting at his right hand was Rufus, who was tearing into a chicken drumstick with ferocity. He’d never seen so much of his uncle’s front teeth before. Dimitri supposed that finally being out of the King position gave Rufus some leeway on table manners. It was nice to see the man letting loose a bit, though Dimitri was not exactly King yet.

The coronation would come a day after his wedding. But, everybody had already begun to act as if it had already happened. Rufus was letting his belt loosen, and the servants looked even more fearful of Dimitri than usual. 

At his left was Sylvain, who seemed quite perturbed by the lack of pretty girls near him. On Sylvain’s right was Felix and Annette, and Sylvain couldn’t possibly risk flirting with Annette. He valued his manhood far too much for it to be cut off by a Fraldarius’s sword. 

Dedue had the choice, always, to skip out on these types of things. The large crowds and the accusing eyes of nobility only proved to make him uncomfortable, and while he could handle it, Dimitri hated to put his dear friend through that sort of thing. He only wished _he_ had the ability to skip it as well. 

Every noble family from one end of Faerghus to the other was at the table. Dimitri sat head over them all, not speaking to anybody, and merely picking at his steak boredly. 

Byleth. Byleth. He wondered what she was doing right then - probably fishing, or drinking, or fighting. Something far more exciting. 

Curious glances were sent the Prince’s way. He avoided all eyes, and Sylvain was the first to capture him into a conversation. The Gautier heir leaned in to whisper over the wave of separate conversations, “I don’t envy you, man.”

Of course he wouldn’t. Dimitri only snorted, “Your time is coming, my friend.”

“Not if I can help it.”

“That’s exactly what I said,” It _was_ exactly what he said, though his reasons were far less flighty than Sylvain’s, “but when I returned from our battle on the Sreng border, dear Uncle dropped the bomb on me.”

He was whispering now, “Old men always think they can push us around.”

Truer words have never been uttered. Dimitri grimaced, “It’s for the best, though. I was hoping to go about ruling Faerghus without having to make any sort of alliances, but I suppose it’s near impossible.”

“At least it’s with the church. Those religious chicks are always  _ freaky _ .”

Dimitri pulled back and glared, while Sylvain only laughed. Next to him, Felix sent a disgusted glance his way as he covered Annette’s ears. His wife seemed to not care in the least and was only surprised by her husband suddenly holding her head as if she was a child. 

“Stop,” she whined, pulling his arms off, “I’m trying to listen to Granny Galatea!”

Granny Galatea was ranting quite loudly at that moment. A wrinkled hand waved about in the air with passion as she recalled the events of her youth. Ingrid sat next to her with her head in her hands. “When I was your age, Ingy, I had a _million_ men wrapped around my finger!”

“Okay…” A groan from her granddaughter, and a deadpan stare from Count Galatea. 

She went on, “But I wasn’t a hussy, you know! Lady Eisner better not be a hussy! She’s got to be feminine, but strong, and sexy, but modest!”

Dimitri wasn’t phased, not even knowing Lady Eisner. He couldn’t say if she was any of those things, and had nothing to go off. Ingrid, on the other hand, was only grimacing more deeply, “It’s none of our business what she is, granny!”

“She’ll be our Queen! Of course it’s our business!”

She was half right, though the personal antics of the Queen would still be considered private. Dimitri went on to ignore the bantering of the woman, as most of the Lords and Ladies at the table were. 

Another bite of tough steak, another sigh, another thought of Byleth. 

His thoughts must’ve shown on his face in some way, as Sylvain leaned in once more to continue their conversation. He looked concerned as he nudged him, “Are you okay?”

“Hm?” He snapped back to the present, “Yes, I suppose.”

“You just look disgusted.”

Disgusted wasn’t quite the word for it. He only sighed, “I’m simply trying to resign myself. I know it won’t be that bad, I’ll survive, and it’s not as if I had anybody I was interested in before this, but…”

Sylvain knew him well enough to finish his thought, “But not getting a choice in the matter is frustrating.”

“Yes.” 

“Maybe she’ll be the kind of girl you like!” A thoughtful pause, “What do you even like? You’ve never even dated anybody.”

A large question. Dimitri was much too focused on his schoolwork to ever take interest in any of the girls at the Academy. After leaving the Academy he had begun his diplomatic travels, and commanded several battles, but most of the soldiers were men. Any women were serving as soldiers alongside their husbands, or as uninterested in the prospect of romance as he was.

It wasn’t as if he _didn’t_ want to be married at some point. Or as if he didn’t have hormones or feelings towards the opposite gender.

He was just too busy. 

With his life of focus and studying for Kingship, how could he even begin to answer Sylvain’s question? How was he to categorize what type of woman he would want to be married to when he had no experience in such things? “I’m not sure.”

The answer wasn’t good enough for his childhood friend, who only stared at him further, “Everybody knows what kind of person they would like, even you.”

Dimitri simply never found himself thinking about such things. His mind tended to lay elsewhere, on training and studies. He pursed his lips, “I suppose I… would like someone sweet, but not overly dependent. And someone that’s interesting. Someone who can lead alongside me, and not shy away from responsibility.”

“So…” a sly pause, “someone like you?”

No, someone like Byleth. At least what Dimitri knew of her. 

A week of spending his days alongside the interesting, sweet, independant, responsible person that Byleth was, proved to be the only clear example he could conjure up. Dark, fetching eyes came to mind, “It doesn’t matter what I like,” he shook the thought away, “Lady Eisner will be what she’ll be, and I can’t change her.”

Sylvain shrugged, “I guess, man. It’s just going to be weird seeing you… married, and all.”

“It’s going to be weird being married.”

Rufus only glanced at him from behind his drink, then looked away the second their eyes met. Dimitri wondered if his uncle felt any guilt at all. He had decided Dimitri’s future without consulting him, and if the marriage went badly then at least part of the blame could be placed on him. It was a terribly reassuring thought, and something he tried to ignore.

Lady Eisner had not yet arrived. She was late, as expected. Sylvain and Felix both had assured him that women usually were late - and both had earned a light slap on the arm from Annette for that. Dimitri didn’t mind her tardiness, though it would’ve been nice to have met her before the ceremony itself. 

After the rehearsal dinner, a few sloppy speeches from Rufus, and one heartfelt sentiment from Rodrigue, the night was over. The various Lords and Ladies retired to their guest rooms in the castle, and Dimitri entered his own with a sigh. 

Tomorrow afternoon was the day his life would change, and Lady Eisner would walk down the aisle. 

He had to force Byleth out of his mind.

  
  


**Sunday**

The morning was an absolute blur to the young Prince, until the moment he donned his tailored suit. 

Once again, he felt, and _looked_ , like a stuffed sausage.

“Can we just…” yanking at the collar with two fingers, he scowled, “loosen this up?”

The tailor had both hands on his hips and his head cocked as if he thought Dimitri was an absolute idiot. He most likely did. “I did. I loosened it already, like you asked.”

He _had_ asked, yet he still felt constricted. He swore there was sweat pooling under his arms. It was only 30 minutes until the ceremony, and no time to work on the undershirt any longer. “Fine,” he stepped off the stage and away from the mirror, “it'll work.”

The tailor only grunted. Dimitri ignored the man’s sour mood as he pulled his long jacket over his shoulders and nearly ran out of the tailor’s shop. With so little time left, and having spent most of the morning staring at his ceiling blankly, he had to rush around the castle courtyard to get his chores done. 

He needed to speak to Lambert. 

There was a small graveyard behind the chapel, over on the Northern side of the courtyard. The cool Faerghus air was a welcome change from the stifling warmth of the tailor’s shop. His forehead and arms quickly cooled as he ran across the grass. 

Finally, the building drew near. He avoided the crowds of nobles and servants meandering in the front, taking a sharp right to cut through the bushes and into the backyard.

Dimitri heard nothing of Lady Eisner. Whether she had arrived, or not, he had no idea. His only goal was his father’s massive tombstone. 

Dimitri slowed in his walk as he approached, hands twiddling in front of him nervously. Hesitation swirled in his stomach and he felt like vomiting. 

Lambert said nothing in greeting. Dimitri said nothing in return. 

At the front of the wedding building, he could hear several guests laughing among themselves. Only 30 minutes to go until the ceremony, and the following reception party, would begin. They could finally drink and loosen their collars. 

He forced himself to ignore the sounds, looking back at Lambert’s grave once more. “Well,” his stomach churned again, “I’m going to be King tomorrow. Thank you for your, uh… fathering, what little you had opportunity to do.”

Silence. No reply, of course. More nobles laughed around the building. 

“I want to make a Faerghus that’s as strong as you had,” a whisper, “please, give me your blessing. And help me to be…” to be like you, “a kind and loving husband and father - no matter the type of woman she may be.”

It had turned into a prayer. A prayer directed to a dead man, rather than the Goddess. He nearly walked away before whipping around to offer an afterthought, “And help me to get a certain woman off of my mind, please.”

15 minutes until the ceremony. Dimitri’s sweat had returned, even in the chill of the Faerghus afternoon. Lambert said nothing, nor did Patricia, or his mother buried on the other side of him. Dimitri patted his thigh and eyed the graves of the two women he called ‘mother’.

If Lady Eisner was anything like Patricia, his worries would be dashed away, and he might have a chance at actually enjoying his marriage. 

Or if she was like Byleth, perhaps, he’d certainly have that chance. 

It was time to go. Dimitri tore himself from the graveyard. It was only a short walk around the white stone walls until he arrived at the front doors. Several nobles caught sight of him and froze, their eyes wide. He only sent them a nod. A sudden barrage of ‘congratulations your Highness’ hit him like a ton of bricks before they scurried from the front steps and inside the doors. If the Prince had shown up, obviously the wedding was about to start. 

Following the rushed nobles, Dimitri entered the chapel and walked silently down the aisle. As he did so, a hush fell over the crowd. The Groom had entered, and was making his way to the stage.

Rufus sent him a bored glance over his shoulder, and only shrugged as he and Dimitri locked eyes. He approached, whispering, “Is she here?”

Rufus grimaced as if he was annoyed at being asked, “Yes, she arrived an hour ago.”

That much was a relief, at least. He wouldn’t have to wait any longer to get it over with. “Did everything go well?”

“She brought her dress,” Rufus returned the whisper as the entire crowd of nobles watched with curiosity, “and her father’s suit. I believe a maid picked some flowers from our garden for her bouquet.”

“Oh good…” Dimitri’s stomach growled, and he blinked in surprise, “did she get to eat anything?”

“We fed her. You would’ve met her earlier if you came to lunch.”

As much as Dimitri wished that he could’ve gotten to know Lady Eisner beforehand, meeting her over a sandwich in the dining room seemed almost too casual. He shook his head, “it’s fine… The decor looks nice.”

It was gaudy, and his face betrayed his lie. The royal decorator had really gotten out of hand. Rufus rolled his eyes, “The bill for this party is going to be _your_ problem come next week. It’ll be nice to retire.”

“Oh, I’m sure.”

By then, more hushed murmurs had waved through the crowd of guests. Dimitri glanced to the left of the room to catch Rodrigue sitting in the front pew, sending him a bashful smile and little wave. Dimitri returned the smile, relieved that he was there for him. 

Besides Rodrigue sat Felix and Annette, and Sylvain and Ingrid on the other side. Dedue was standing near the altar as Dimitri’s guard of choice, while Mercedes sat in the crowd and smiled lovingly to her husband. He did look handsome, Dedue in his nice armor and content smile. 

Dimitri thought he could even spot Ashe in the crowd, sitting with Lord Lonato. All of his dear friends had come to see him, and would no doubt stay to see the coronation tomorrow. That party was to be a city wide festival, bigger than the wedding reception.

The crowd grew still as Dimitri sighed and took his place next to the officiator. As the time grew closer, he bounced his knee, hands folded in front of him and waiting for Lady Eisner to arrive. 

Anyone not murmuring and gossiping to themselves stared widely at the Prince. He was used to being gawked at, yet his stomach was betraying him to nervousness. His hands were clammy, and he desperately wished to be outside to cool off in the breeze. 

With the incoming clop of horse hooves, Dimitri watched through the open doors as a carriage pulled up to the front steps. His heart thumped. 

The driver of the carriage hopped from his place to rush to the door and open it. Out stepped a well dressed man, older with sandy blond hair. He steadied himself, and held out a hand for the bride. 

The aisle was far too ostentatiously long for Dimitri to see their faces, yet he could make out the white puffiness of a wedding dress as the bride stepped out of the carriage. The guests all hushed, and turned around in the pews to catch a glimpse of the famed Lady Eisner. 

She would be their Queen. The nobles stretched and gazed in awe as she walked up the chapel steps, a delicately gloved hand resting in her father’s. 

A blusher covered her face, with the veil hanging from her done-up hair almost as long as her train. Even as she stepped through the doors, Dimitri could not see through the white material of the covering.

She was simply pale, average sized, with a thin waist. He could make out a head of dark hair under her blusher. Her dress was tasteful, at least. The train was long and elegant, and the dress beaded with floral designs all across it. The bodice was high to cover her chest, but her shoulders were bare. Her gloves reached her elbows, and Dimitri followed her hand to the man standing at her side. 

Jeralt. 

His heart dropped to his stomach in shock. 

He gaped. Rufus looked at his nephew with surprise, but all Dimitri could see was _Jeralt_. 

His blood froze, the room grew quiet, and he heard nothing but the sheer confusion and anxiety beating in his heart. 

What in Seiros’s name was Jeralt doing here?

All Dimitri could process was pure confusion. Perhaps Jeralt had an identical twin brother, or perhaps Dimitri was seeing him wrong and he was only a doppelganger? It was the exact same haircut, the same wrinkles, the same smirk. 

He smiled at him as if he was about to prank him. Dimitri only squinted, and Jeralt’s mocking smile grew larger. 

What was happening? Dimitri gulped, and eyed Lady Eisner as she grew closer. Dark hair, a pale face underneath the veil, holding onto a man that looked like Byleth’s father as they approached.

Finally, she stood in front of him. Jeralt held out a hand to Dimitri, and he could only stare at his open palm. 

A second of heavy silence passed. From the pew, Rufus cleared his throat, breaking Dimitri from his reverie. He nearly jumped out of his own skin, and grabbed Jeralt’s hand with a grip far more firm than he meant. The man only chuckled under his breath as they shared the handshake, “I’ve been waiting for this moment, kid, ever since we met.”

Was he dreaming? Was this some twisted prank? 

Lady Eisner’s shoulders were trembling. Dimitri couldn’t tell if it was from laughter, or sobbing. Jeralt stepped back and took a seat beside Rufus as the bride stepped onto the stage across from Dimitri.

Her shoulders continued to shake. Dimitri only stared, dumbfounded. 

Slowly, her hands raised to her veil, and she lifted it with a slow, deliberate movement. 

To reveal a very angry, very displeased, glaring Byleth. 

Dimitri's blood froze cold. 

Her words were fire itself as she hissed, quiet enough for only him to hear, “ _You_ _asshole_.”

Dimitri could’ve thrown up in that very moment. He could’ve easily emptied his stomach, dropped to his knees, and laughed/cried in surprise. 

How ironic! How incredibly ironic that the woman he was wishing he could have a chance to get to know, was the woman he was marrying! How _ironic_ , that he prepared for a relationship with the woman he would _be_ in a relationship with! 

How ironic. Dimitri only stared, looking very dumb as Byleth called him an asshole. The room seemed to swirl around him, and he could not even register the officiate beginning the ceremony with the words, “Lords and Ladies of The Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, we gather here today to honor this union under Seiros.”

Dimitri stared. Byleth shook her head, glaring venomously, mouthing the words ‘I’m going to kick your ass’ silently.

She was absolutely beautiful.

Dimitri believed her threat. She very well could kick his ass. His blood ran cold, and he had no other thought in his mind at that moment other than ‘what the hell’ repeating over and over again. The priest went on, unaware of the odd tension between bride and groom. “Marriage is a wonderful bond, a wonderful arrangement that brings two families, two powers, together in sweet matrimony.”

Jeralt clasped a hand over his mouth to control his laughter. Byleth gripped her bouquet of roses so tightly Dimitri was afraid they’d snap. 

“Garreg Mach has so wonderfully provided Lady Byleth Eisner to the Kingdom as a Queen,” The priest gestured to her, earning her fiery glare and flinching, “A-And we are b-blessed with Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd as our responsible future King.”

Dimitri found himself flinching under her glare as well. The eyes that were once so fetching could easily have killed him. 

“Now,” the priest went on, clasping his hands, “We all watch as these two bind themselves in marital union. If there is anybody that objects, speak now... or forever hold your peace.”

Dimitri felt like objecting, if only to have a second to think and figure out what was going on. He found himself lacking the boldness to do so, and only stayed silent. Byleth continued to simmer with rage. 

“Wonderful. Now,” the priest looked to Dimitri, “Do you, your Highness, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, take Lady Byleth Eisner as your lawfully wedded wife?”

Lady Byleth Eisner. It wasn’t Bianca Eisner, or Beth, or Betty. It was _Byleth_. How could he have been so dumb?

Resisting the urge to slap himself over the head, he managed to nod. The priest only raised an eyebrow, and Dimitri caught himself before he zoned out in his confusion once more, “Y-Yes. I do.”

“Wonderful,” he looked to Byleth now, “do you, Lady Byleth Eisner, tak-”

“I do.”

Her answer was strong. The priest gaped, but held himself back from arguing with her interruption. By the look in her eyes, he supposed that it would be best to just move on. The guests all tittered, half of them amused, the other half appalled. 

Dimitri desperately wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake her. He wanted to tell his dear friend to be careful, to watch her back and to get out of this political world she was entering! He could just hear the gossip now, the criticism she would get for her glares and her short answers. These nobles would eat her up in seconds. 

“Well,” an awkward clearing of the throat and another wave of laughter from the audience, “now for the sharing of rings. Your Highness," he gestured to Dimitri. 

Moving slowly, as if in a daze, Dimitri reached into his jacket. His fingers brushed against the velvet box that held both rings. He pulled it out and pushed the lid open to draw the simple golden rings from their places. 

Displeased, but complying, Byleth extended her left hand. It was gloved delicately, and fit so well into his palm as he slipped the band onto her finger. Silently, he passed his own ring to her, and she harshly clutched his hand to push his band on. While he had been so delicate, she was the complete opposite with a glare at the wedding bands and a tremble in her shoulders returning. 

The officiate spread his hands wide to acknowledge the audience, "By the power invested in me by the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, I pronounce you man and wife.”

A chorus of claps and cheers. The priest dissolved into a genuine smile, “You may kiss the bride, your Highness.”

He had kissed this bride many times before. Kissing her was an art he cultivated over several hours in her rented room in that inn. Kissing this particular bride was his new favorite hobby - though with how she looked at him now, he was sure he’d get his head bitten off. 

Byleth tsked. Dimitri sighed, and leaned in to peck her cheek quickly. The crowd cheered and clapped once more, and he pulled away to look at them and wave with a polite, close lipped smile. Byleth only glared. 

Jeralt was now whistling, while Rufus glanced at the man with a confused expression. “Get outta here, kids,” Jeralt gestured to the doors, “See ya at the reception!”

Without warning, Byleth gripped his wrist tightly. Dimitri was pulled down the aisle, through the crowd of clapping nobles and servants as they watched him and Byleth exit the building. Her hand on his wrist was tight, and her footsteps determined as she pulled him down the steps and towards the carriage waiting for them. 

Finally, a moment alone. She swung the door open, and stepped inside, gathering up the back of her dress to hold in her arms as she took a seat on the velvet covered bench. Once her dress was safely in her lap, Dimitri followed. 

He sat, and the door shut with a bang. The reception would begin in the Great Hall soon after, but the bride and groom were traditionally given a moment’s reprieve from the excitement of the ceremony. Dimitri shifted in his seat, and avoided Byleth’s eyes.

Until she began hitting him with her bouquet.

It was sudden, and in a flash, when the red roses hit him on the chest. The thorns stabbed his skin lightly, and she reared back to hit him again. Both of her hands held the roses by the stems as she swiped the flowers across his head once more.

He barely could duck in time, and she took another hit at him. Petals were flying, and she was huffing with all of her rage as she swung at him. “How dare you!”

  
  
Dimitri put his hands up to block the barrage of flowers, “How dare I what?”

“Lie to me!” As she pulled the roses back, he could see the hurt in her eyes. It was complemented by another impact of flowers across his chest. 

He put an arm up to shield himself in the chaos, “I didn’t lie to you! My nickname is Dima!”

“You sure as hell _did_ lie to me, _Dima_! You said you weren’t the prince.”

It was true, he did say that. She had even asked him outright if he was the Prince.

But now, as she pulled the bouquet away once more, he had his chance to barrage her with questions. He lunged forward before she could stop him, and ripped the flowers from her hands. Opening the window to the carriage that was now moving across the castle courtyard, he threw the bouquet out of the window. 

She gasped as it flew out of sight. “I was supposed to throw that!”

“You were using it as a weapon!” He pulled the window cover back up with a huff, “Can we speak peacefully _without_ the floral attacks?”

“I’m angry,” she retorted, “can I not be angry? I just got you off my mind, and then I find that you’ve lied to me all week!”

“You lied to me more!”

Incredulous, she scoffed, “How _so_? You knew my name, and what I said about my father and I was true. We were traveling together because it was the last chance we’d get before I got married. I just…" a thoughtful pause, "didn’t tell you every detail.” 

Dimitri watched her sigh and begin to fidget with the beading of her dress. He had told her a straight lie, and had not even said his real name. 

And now she was his wife. 

He and Byleth were married. It was a dream come true, and simultaneously his worst nightmare. 

She knew that he lied to her, and had been doing so all week. 

“I…” he began slowly, trying to find his words as she ignored him, “I did not lie about what kind of man I am. Yes, my name isn’t Dima, and yes I actually am the prince, but my values and morals, and the times we had, were not lies.”

“Well, they were under the pretense of such.”

“If you’re so offended by this then why did you partake in all of our… canoodling together?”

Byleth looked offended, “I thought I was just practicing with a man I'd never seen again. And now I’m just… disappointed.”

It was his turn to be offended now, “Oh, expecting someone better?”

“I’m disappointed that the man I’m married to lied and fooled around so easily!”   


“You fooled around and kept the truth from me just as easily!”

“If you had asked ‘are you Lady Eisner’ I would’ve said yes! If you had asked my last name, I would’ve told you!”

“I did ask you! I asked if you’ve met Lady Eisner and you said you didn’t.”

She froze, then returned to her frowning and huffing, “You asked if I _knew_ her, not if I was her.”

Dimitri went on, “You weren’t so keen to offer any information about yourself.” He reasoned, “What if I had been some poor commoner boy? The woman I was running around with suddenly shows up as the Queen - think how I’d feel.”

She retorted instantly, “And what if I was some commoner girl? You thought I was, didn’t you?”

He did. 

He thought that she was a mercenary, being married off to a farmer. He thought that she would see him as King and hate him. 

Now, it was much worse. She was his Queen, and she _still_ hated him. 

Before Dimitri could make any sort of retort, the carriage halted suddenly. He and Byleth both lurched forward, their knees knocking gently and her dress falling from her lap. Dimitri gathered the train up into his arms, but she snatched it away and glared at him once more. She would not even allow him to be helpful to her. 

The door to the carriage knocked and Dimitri sighed, “Yes?”

“I hope we aren’t bothering!” Jeralt laughed from outside. 

Byleth scowled, “You knew the whole time!” Harshly, she kicked the door of the carriage, “I’m mad at you too!”

The door opened to reveal Jeralt and Rufus. Dimitri’s uncle only looked irritated, but Jeralt was enjoying the show of anger from his daughter. She tried to kick him again, but he stepped back. “Listen, kid, I was hoping you’d notice at some point. It’s not my fault you’re unobservant.”

“I’m _not_ unobservant!”   
  


“The Prince of Faerghus was visiting you every day, with his fancy horse and his fancy clothes, buying expensive drinks and lying terribly, and you _still_ didn’t notice. It took me a total of 30 seconds of looking at the kid to realize who he wa-”

Jeralt suddenly got a face full of her wedding dress. Byleth had no more roses to lash out with, and had resorted to throwing the train of her dress at her objects of frustration. He only laughed and pulled it off as she got up to climb out of the carriage. 

Dimitri followed slowly, and Rufus patted his shoulder once he exited. “So that’s where you were going. Did you know…?”

He shook his head, “No idea.”

“I’d… have hoped you were more observant.”

“Well,” annoyed, he shrugged his hand off, “nobody’s perfect, uncle.”

“You’re an idiot,” he hissed quietly so nobody would hear, “What if she was common? I will not allow you to make little bastard Blaiddyds like your great grandfather did!”

How dare he say such a thing! No bastards were ever mentioned in the history of his family, and if any existed they had never given them any problems. Even if they did, Dimitri would’ve accepted them immediately. He scowled, hissing back, “It was all above the belt, uncle, and frankly none of your business! Who do you think I am?”

“An ignorant boy who runs around romancing random girls.”

That answered that. Dimitri stepped away, “Well, me and that random girl are married now, so it doesn’t even matter.”

Byleth only glared. Dimitri avoided her gaze, and instead focused on the guests filing into the great hall. He caught sight of Dedue waiting by the door, already staring at him. 

How he wished for his friend’s guidance. How he wished that it would be proper to just go away for a weekend with Dedue and hunt some wolves, or to go traveling again. To live like he did before he was engaged, before he had met Byleth in that village. 

“It’ll be fine,” Jeralt was laid back about the entire situation, almost as if he’d expected this all along. He slung an arm over Byleth’s shoulder, “But if I know anything about these uptight nobles, you two better act like you like each other.”

Dimitri narrowed his eyes, “I _do_ like her. That’s the problem.”

“Then, act like you’re not in a fight right now,” gently, he nudged his daughter towards her husband, “don’t give them anymore cause for rumors, and sure as hell don’t look unhappy.”

Byleth, at least, understood the importance of such things. She forced a small, serene smile onto her face, and Dimitri made his own. Jeralt and Rufus nodded in approval as they linked arms.

Her skin was soft against his hand. It had only been one day away from her, yet he already missed her touch. He was just beginning to get to know it, and wished that he had gotten the chance to know it further. At least the feel of her skin hadn’t changed.

Arm in arm, they walked towards the doors to the Great Hall. Dimitri whispered down to her, “We can talk later. I really am sorry for all that happened.”

“I’m just feeling betrayed,” she admitted coldly, “I don’t think I’ll want to… _you_ _know_ , tonight.”

Sex, she meant. Dimitri’s cheeks felt warm. He cleared his throat, thankful for the incessant talking of the guests being loud enough so nobody but her would hear. “We don’t have to do that if you don’t want to.”

“It’s a part of marriage…” She shrugged, and sighed, “but give me a while, your Highness, I need to… adjust.”

“It occurs to me that… you’ve been preparing all this time for a marriage as well,” he earned her attention, “you’re probably feeling a great multitude of things right now. I can’t comprehend for you how it felt to see Dima at the end of the altar instead of the person you imagined.”

She now looked up at him. The fetching eyes were back, attentive and enrapturing, “And I can’t imagine it for you either. How did you think Lady Eisner would be?”

“Something like Rhea, I suppose,” he shrugged, “someone boring, someone very holy and dedicated to Seiros.”

“Rhea would be an upgrade from me.”

She wouldn’t. He was sure that for some men her words would be true, but not for him. As unexpected as the situation was, it was a relief to have Byleth at his side. It was what he truly had wanted, and not guessed would ever happen. 

What were the odds? He could only wonder if it was sheer coincidence that brought the two together.

There was no more time to discuss such things, though, as they approached the Great Hall and entered through its doors. It was a lavish room, with polished floors and tables lining the walls. At the head of the room was the royal chairs and feasting tables, all set up and empty for the Prince and his new bride. 

Dimitri kept his arm linked with hers as he led her there. The crowd parted, all smiles and congratulations, a chorus of ‘wow’ and ‘she’s so beautiful’ waved through the crowd. 

Byleth’s smile turned genuine as she greeted an older woman who had grabbed her other arm. Dimitri unhooked his own arm away from her to observe her holding the elderly woman’s hands and accepting her compliments with grace. Other nobles and servants observed, and he could only wonder if Byleth was at all acquainted with the wonders of the royal court. 

The people at Garreg Mach were sure to have a rumor mill and hierarchy, but he knew nothing of her life there, and if it was anything like the Faerghus court. Here, the lords and ladies were watching like hawks as she conversed with the woman, waiting for her to slip.

Beautiful, they thought of her now, how that could change in the blink of an eye. Tonight would be the night so many would try to cozy up to her and gain her good graces, friendship in exchange for power and success. 

The older woman finally let go of Byleth, and she slipped away to join Dimitri once again. He smiled at her, “Was she kind?”

“Of course,” she nodded, “why wouldn’t she be?”

He wouldn’t answer her now. There were too many ears to have a true conversation. Instead, they resumed their silent walk to the table, while Byleth only glanced at him with a confused look. 

Eventually, they sat. Dedue joined him at his shoulder, silent as a ghost. Byleth nearly jumped when she saw him, but calmed an instant later and turned her eyes back to the party ahead of her. Many had begun dancing to the orchestra in the corner of the room, and she eyed the odd line forming with furrowed brows. 

Dimitri noted the look on her face. “It’s called a reel.”

“A reel of what?”

“A… dance reel?” He had been used to answering Dedue’s questions about Faerghus culture, but Byleth was an entirely different matter. Dimitri was merely confused as to how she could not know about Faerghus culture. “I thought your family was from here.”

She nodded, “Yes. My grandfather was. My father was born here, and I was born at the church. We don’t really dance anything but the waltz there, and that’s only once a year at the ball.”

He remembered the ball. He had danced with what felt like hundreds of faceless girls that night. “Were you at the ball five years ago, the class of 1180?”

“No.”

She gave no more information. Pulling himself from the subject, Dimitri directed his attention back to the intricate dance. As uptight as the Kingdom nobles could be, they certainly could loosen their belts enough to carry out a traditional reel. 

Dimitri himself had spent many a night in a reel line. He could bow, follow the steps, twirl and attach himself to a different partner with the practiced ease of a Northern boy. He sent a smile to Byleth, “Would you like to join?”

She seemed to shrink in her seat. It was so un-Byleth like to be shy, but there she sat, looking like a lectured child. “No, I have two left feet.”

He wouldn’t push her. There would be no wedding dance, it seemed, but if the nobles got drunk enough they wouldn’t find themselves caring. Dimitri instead turned his attention to Dedue over his shoulder, “Would you mind grabbing a waiter to bring up some wine?”

He nodded, “Yes, Your Highness.”

“And Dedue, please don’t feel like you need to be my shadow tonight.” He patted his retainer’s hand, “Go dance with your wife.”

  
  
Dedue eyed the complicated reel - the line was forming from one end of the room to the other now - and looked at it in the same way Byleth had. “I… believe I should wait until it’s a waltz.”

Even then, he knew his dear friend would stick to the side of the room. Dimitri caught sight of Mercedes in the crowd, twirling with Sylvain and pulling back to join the line once more, curtseying messily as she grinned.

Sylvain caught Dimitri’s eye and gave a cheeky grin. He shot him a thumbs up. Dimitri proceeded to ignore him. 

Byleth was silent beside him as she picked at her dinner. She shifted uncomfortably, and her dress spread out around her on the ground. She fiddled with the fabric as the servant approached with the wine and set the glasses on the table. 

She was so much unlike the Byleth he had met a week ago. Dimitri stole a glance, noticing the pearls weaved through her intricately braided dark hair. Her posture was perfect, a curled lock of hair hanging around her cheek, beside her pearl earrings. Pearls were such an Adrestian type of jewelry, Dimitri thought she would look much better in emeralds or sapphires.

Perhaps he could get her an emerald ring made. Thinking of this, he downed a bit of the wine. Byleth stayed silent as she chewed on her steak. He cut his own, and ignored the crowd in front of them. 

Usually, there would be a point where the bride and groom went to the pond outside and did the pebble toss. They would toss their own rock, and then any guests that wished so could toss some as well. Dimitri wasn’t exactly sure what the tradition meant, but it was something even Felix and Annette had done. Most weddings in Faerghus did something of the sort. 

Yet, this did not happen. 

Neither did the first dance. 

And neither did the broom jump. And no gushie ever happened. 

Byleth did not even leave her seat. 

Dimitri eventually got up to visit with several of the guests and to convene with Sylvain and Ingrid. Byleth stayed at the table and spoke to anybody that approached, though most of the guests preferred to just send her curious looks and keep their distance.

The night drew further until the dark settled into a velvet black sky. Guests filed out and back to their rooms, tipsy with happiness and ceremony. 

Without Dimitri knowing, Jeralt walked Byleth back to her room. 

She did not say goodnight, and Dimitri left his own reception around 1 a.m. - tired and dejected, a married man with no wife at his side. 

  
  
  


**Monday**

The coronation was incredibly underwhelming. 

Dimitri had been waiting for this day his entire life. From the moment he could understand the words of his father, he had been hoisted up in his arms and told ‘Dima, you’ll be a King one day. You need to be prepared’.

He was incredibly prepared, thus, it was not very exciting to be crowned. 

His knee hurt, actually, and he wished that the priest would just get it over with. His own wedding had not lasted this long. 

Dimitri knelt in front of the same officiate as he waited for the crown to touch his head. His neck hurt, and his lower back was beginning to protest as well. He must’ve looked very irritated, as he glanced into the crowd to catch Rufus forcing a fake smile onto his face. 

Dimitri reminded himself to smile as well, or at least to not look so angry. 

Besides Rufus stood Byleth. She had abandoned the common clothes he had grown used to seeing her in, and instead she wore a long gown. It was an empire waistline, and simple, fitting her body well as she folded her hands in front of her and watched. 

She already wore a circlet. It was silver and plain in nature, woven into her hair as a small reminder of who she had become yesterday. In just a few short moments, when the priest finally shut up with his speech, she would officially be Queen Consort to a King. 

The room was lit with candles, and the guests were few in number. His close friends watched with happiness, and Jeralt stood beside Byleth, looking bored. Several of the more important lords and ladies had come to watch, but the room was only big enough for a few. It was the room that led to the balcony where Dimitri would emerge from to greet his citizens, and a much more comfortable occasion than the chapel or Great Hall.

Finally, the priest took a deep breath to end his long winded speech, “And that, my child, is the power Goddess gives.”

What power? Dimitri hadn’t been listening. He only closed his eyes and nodded, trying to look respectful. 

“With my power,” he paused for effect, his voice growing more quiet, “In place of the Archbishop, who could not make it…” the silence was awkward, but the priest recovered with a clearing of his throat, “I ask you, your highness, are you willing to take the oath?”

“I am.”

“Will you rule the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus with justice, righteousness, and loyalty?”

“I will.”

“Will you remain committed to the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus and the church of Seiros for as long as you shall live?”

“I will.” Byleth looked bored, Dimitri itched to just get on with it. 

“Then I pronounce you… King Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd!”

In a moment where there should’ve been an eruption, he was met with only a light patter of applause. Sylvain whistled, and Annette’s little hands clapped with more fervor as she tried to psyche up the small crowd a bit more. 

Dimitri lowered his head as the crown was lain on his head. It was heavy, and quite itchy, but he knew that he would have a more comfortable one made. His heart skipped a beat as he stood and smiled to his friends.

Byleth’s look of boredom had faded into a blank expression that he couldn’t read. She was beautiful still, even when not playing poker in a tiny village or sitting in a meadow of flowers.  Dimitri held his hand out to her, and she stepped forward to take it. Rufus opened the balcony doors to reveal the light of the morning sun. “Ready?”

She nodded silently. Dimitri couldn’t tell if she was excited, he could barely tell if _he_ was excited. Despite whatever he felt, he led his Queen out of the room and onto the balcony.

_This_ was the eruption he expected. 

The residents of Fhirdiad waited below, a sea of people. Dimitri leaned against the rails and looked down to meet their deafening cheers. He couldn’t help but smile and wave. 

Byleth’s expression had faded in one of wonder. She clutched at his cloak, “They look so happy.”

“We’ve all been waiting for a while,” he chuckled, “Rufus wasn’t exactly loved.”

From inside the room, he thought he could hear his uncle scoff. Ignoring it, he sent another large wave to the crowd and relished in their cheers. 

Byleth grimaced, “Should we say something?”

“I don’t think we’ll be heard.”

Hesitantly, she waved, and was received by more cheers. Her face lit up, “I would like to walk through town at some point. I didn’t get a chance yesterday.”

“You spent so much time just an hour away from here, By.”

“We didn’t want to risk being recognized,” she explained over the roar below, “and, to be honest, I was trying to avoid this reality as much as possible.”

As was he. The village had proved to be a getaway for both of them. 

Turning around, he led his wife back into the room. Sylvain was the first to wrap an arm over his shoulder and pull him into a tight, friendly hug. Dimitri patted his back awkwardly as the Gautier heir squeezed him. “Man, I’m so proud, look at you! My _King_.” 

Felix punched him in the arm, “Don’t suffocate him, idiot.”

Sylvain released him, and Dimitri had Ingrid and Annette both attacking him with hugs. Mercedes slinked over to finish it, and Dimitri sent Byleth a ‘help me’ look over the girl’s heads. She only raised a brow at the sight. 

Ingrid was the first to pull away from the group hug and give him a friendly nudge, “I’m proud of you, Dima.”

A chuckle, “I didn’t do anything.”

Both Annette and Mercedes pulled back, and Annette was the first to tackle Byleth with her sheer friendliness. She bound over to the Queen consort, clasping her hands in her own and stunning her with a smile. “I’m Annette, or Annie. I went to school with Dimitri, and lemme tell you…”

Byleth raised a dark brow, “He snuck around and got into trouble all the time?”

“Oh, no!” She giggled, “He was a total _nerd_! He never did anything but study and train! And he beat me to the top of the class,” glowering, she turned her rage back to him, “I still demand a redo of the final exam! I’ll get a higher score this time, I promise you!”   
  


“We were only one point apart, Annie.”

As she opened her mouth to argue the details of the final exam further, Felix wrapped an arm around his wife’s shoulders and pulled her away. He leveled Byleth with a flat gaze as Annette struggled to escape his arm. 

“So, married to the Boar King,” he began, earning a groan from the rest of the room, “lucky you.”

It was so often that Felix went on his ‘boar’ rants, no matter the amount of lectures he got for it, he still continued. Dimitri didn’t mind much, he usually just ignored him and moved on with his life. Yet, now that it was directed at Byleth, he was eager to direct the conversation away from such a thing, “I’m the lucky one her-”

His diversions were ignored as Byleth only looked at Felix pensively, “Boar King?”

“He’s a boar.” Felix said plainly, as if that explained anything, "You'll see it one day."

Ashe was the one to save Dimitri’s patience. He appeared from behind Lord Lonato, who was chatting Rodrigue’s ear off in the corner of the room. He hurried up to the group of his peers, green eyes wide and hair messed up as he waved his hands around, “Oh, hey, Byleth, I didn’t get a chance to talk to you yesterday!”

Relief flooded Dimitri’s chest as Ashe thoroughly distracted his wife. Felix grunted, and Annette elbowed him in the ribcage as punishment for his nature. Byleth’s smile was wide and familiar, a rarity Dimitri had not even seen much in the past week. 

“It’s good to see you, dear friend,” they wrapped each other in a hug, “I didn’t know you were here.”

He laughed lightly, “I don’t get to come up here very often, Lonato has me busy becoming a knight.”

As they reminiscenced and spoke of Ashe’s training, Rodrigue approached Dimitri with a fatherly smile. They shook hands, but it dissolved into a familiar hug. “Lambert would’ve been proud.” He whispered into his ear.

So many times Rodrigue reminded him of that, and Dimitri had never felt it to be true until now. 

“Thank you,” he said as they pulled back from each other and smiled, “I appreciate that.”

The coronation was followed by the city-wide festival that was continuing on from yesterday’s wedding festival. While the citizens outside of the castle celebrated their new King, the nobles inside the castle feasted and danced once more. 

Dimitri was more lively for this particular party as he had been yesterday. The confusion and surprise of the ceremony had killed his spirits. And while he had been expecting to go to bed alone and wake up as such, it still had dimmed his light a bit. 

Now, with a crown on his head and the nonsense of the ceremony out of the way, he could fully enjoy himself and speak to the guests. 

Byleth stayed at his side like a lost puppy. She looked blank and expressionless, but Dimitri’s concern only grew the more blank her face became. Towards the middle of the night, near the table with the fancy muffins, he finally led her into an empty corner of the room. 

She followed without question, and only raised a brow as he stopped and whipped around to face her. She was unfazed by the oddness of her new husband as he narrowed his eyes to stare. 

“What?”

Dimitri huffed, “What do you mean what?”

She sighed, “Are we having our first fight?”

“Our first fight was yesterday,” he informed, “and no, we aren’t. I was just wondering if you were okay, you’re so…”

His thoughts trailed off. Byleth stared at him, waiting for an answer. 

When one didn’t come, she finished for him, “I’m so boring?”

“That’s not what I was going to say. I mean that you’re so, well… out of your element.”

“Well, duh,” she snorted, “it’s my second day here and I’ve already attended two parties-”

“One of them being your wedding.”

“I’m tired,” she informed lightly, “but this is important, and I just want to be the supportive wife I was hired to be.”

A pause, “...Hired?”

“Basically,” she grimaced, “knights and support in exchange for money and export?”

“That doesn’t mean you were _hired_ , By.”

“I feel like I was, I’ve felt like that since I was told of this engagement.”

So had he, in some way. Hired wasn’t the exact term he would use, though, it was more like ‘sold off’. 

“I’m sorry,” he put a soft hand on her shoulder, “would you like to leave?”

She shook her head, “No, of course not. Please, celebrate your coronation. I might just walk out into the courtyard and refresh myself a bit.”

She was slipping back into the Byleth he knew from the week prior. The laid back, concerned woman who treated everybody like a friend. He wondered if that was her true self, or if the blank and cold face was who she truly was. 

Looking at her with a tilted head, Dimitri couldn’t help but ask, “Is this… a happy day for you as well?”

She paused before giving him a slow answer, “I’m happy for you.”

“Was yesterday?”

“No.”

His heart fell in his chest, though he felt the exact same way, “I’m sorry.”

Byleth only shrugged and avoided his eyes, “I hope that one day it will be,” she admitted as she stepped away, “perhaps I can look back on it and feel happy. Until then… no.”

Dimitri watched her turn around and make her way to the double glass doors leading to the courtyard. The crowd of guests parted for the consort, and Dimitri forced himself to look somewhere else. 

Ingrid slid through the guests and took the empty place beside Dimitri. She held a mug of beer in one hand, and linked her other arm with his, “Do you want to dance?”

He did. He wanted to dance with Byleth, though, and nobody else. Nodding softly, he sent her a polite smile, “Yes, thank you.”

“She’ll come around,” she assured as she set her beer down onto a table, “it’s only a matter of time.”

  
  


**Tuesday**

There Dimitri stood, standing outside of Jeralt Eisner’s door at 6 in the morning with his hand frozen mid-knock.

What the hell was he doing?

He stared at the patterns in the wood. He knew that behind that door were the answers to his concerns, and he could so easily achieve those answers if he had any sort of boldness. Yet, he hesitated, and he stood, and he shifted, and he balled his fist up again and raised it to knock and - stopped once again.

His head dropped. He closed his eyes. What if Jeralt hated him as much as Byleth did? He was aware the entire week that he was lying, perhaps he was just biding his time until the truth came out and he could openly laugh in his face. 

Whatever his intentions were, Jeralt was now his father in law, whether he liked it or not. 

Dimitri must knock at some point. Finally, his knuckles rapped against the harsh wood, and he pulled back to listen for any reply from the man. 

A groggy, “I don’t want any,” resounded through the door. 

Dimitri cleared his throat and attempted to sound as important as he possibly could, “It’s, uh, Dimitri.” 

Jeralt didn’t care how important he sounded. He only groaned, and Dimitri heard a thud on the ground. Several stumbling footsteps nearing the door, and finally the knob turned to reveal a tired Jeralt standing before him. 

Perhaps it was too early. The dark bags under the man’s eyes were like purple half moons, and his hair was sticking up as if it was gelled that way on purpose. Dimitri only blinked, and stared.

A scowl, “What is it?”

He popped back into reality and stood to attention, “Lord Eisner-”

“ _Jeralt_.”

“J-Jeralt, uh, I just would like to talk with you for a minute, if you have the time.”

“You woke me up to talk to me?”

Dimitri was usually awake by 6 a.m. whether he chose to be, or not. Most nights, he had never fallen asleep in the first place and just decided to start his day at six because there was nothing else to entertain him. On the first day of his Kingship, there was a lot to do, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to focus until he could get some answers. 

So, he nodded confidently, “Yes. About Byleth, actually.”

Her name changed things. Jeralt sighed and stepped aside to let the King in. The door was closed behind him as Dimitri made for the wooden chair beside the fireplace and sat down. 

Jeralt slipped a shirt on, and smoothed his hair down quickly in front of the mirror before joining Dimitri at the sitting area. He plopped down tiredly and shielded his eyes, slumping. The room was still dark, but there was enough light to bother his hungover mind. 

Dimitri wished he had a coffee cup or pencil, something to fidget with. He settled for his own fingers instead, “Firstly, I was just wondering how you figured out that I was the prince.”

He snorted, “You were wearing nice clothes, riding a purebred horse, had perfect posture and speech, and you wielded a lance like a Blaiddyd. Not to mention, you look just like Lambert. How could I _not_ know who you were?”

Dimitri barely recalled what his father even looked like. There was a portrait of him in the Great Hall, though he rarely looked at it. “Okay, but why didn’t you tell Byleth who I was?”

“She seemed happy for the first time in months.”

Jeralt’s frank reply struck him like lightning. Dimitri straightened in his chair and stared at the empty fireplace, consumed by his thoughts. 

For that one week, Byleth seemed happier than she had in months. His heart skipped. “What do you mean?”

Jeralt sighed and removed his hand from his eyes, now resting his cheek in his palm. “She didn’t want to get married, but Rhea insisted. I think she just wanted some eyes and ears up here to keep the church’s grip on this country.”

That was news to Dimitri. What exactly had Rufus agreed to?

Jeralt went on, “Don’t worry, though, Byleth plays by her own rules. You guys are fine, this alliance is helping them too, and if anything were to happen to it they’d be in trouble just as much as you.”

“So the church isn’t looking to overthrow us and become world leaders?”

“No, Goddess no. Rhea could care less about that, but I’m sure it’s nice having the Kingdom’s support, ya know?”

He knew. The church did like their claws being dug deep into the Kingdom. He set that thought aside and pushed on, “So, you didn’t tell her simply because she seemed happy?”

Jeralt smiled bitterly, “Yeah. She doesn’t make friends easily, and you took to her so well. Quite a bit too well if you ask me.... But yeah, she had this idea in her head that the Prince would be this narcissistic tyrant, and if I told her that Dima was the Prince, she’d sour to the thought of you before she ever got to know you.”

“But... what if we hadn't met before the wedding?”

“Then she’d already be sour, of course, that’s why I let that weird little thing go on between you two,” he leaned forward conspiratorially, “she got a chance to know you a bit. She knows you as Dima, and even though she’s angry at you for lying, I know that it’ll pay off.”

He was the slightest bit confused, but catching up with every passing second. “So… you’re saying that our week together gave us the chance to not make assumptions about each other once we’re married?”

“Yep.”

“That’s complicated.”

He shrugged, “Hey, at least you can go on knowing that you have the capacity to be friends with your wife. And my daughter knows she can get along with you now.”

“But what if we never make up from this?”

“I know her, boy, she’ll forgive you. Just… I don’t know,” he shrugged and rubbed the back of his neck, “Do something nice for her. Show her something to look forward to about Fhirdiad.”

Something to look forward to about Fhirdiad? Dimitri had lived there all of his life, there wasn’t really anything left in the city that excited him. 

Jeralt, hungover and absolutely done with the conversation, ushered a thoughtful King out of his room. The door shut behind him, and he stood in the hall, still thinking. 

Something exciting about Fhirdiad. He thought, and thought. He thought while walking to the dining room, head in the clouds as he passed by servants and maids. 

Finally arriving in the room, he took no notice of its occupants as he sat at the head of the table. Rufus eyed him with a furrowed brow, and Dedue simply took his place behind him and shook his head. 

“Your Majesty,” his uncle whispered harshly, “you’re still in your pajamas.”

Dimitri snapped out of his reverie and looked down at himself. He, indeed, was still in his pajamas. He had planned to return to his room after speaking with Jeralt, but he had shuffled his way into the dining hall instead. 

He shook his head and smiled, “I’m sorry, that’s rather rude of me. I’ll go change.”

As Dimitri began to stand, the double doors swung open once more. Byleth strode into the dining hall with a yawn, wearing her own set of pajamas as she neared the table. 

Dimitri sat back down, and sent a grin to Rufus. He only rolled his eyes. 

Byleth’s hair was sticking up, and a good amount of her legs showed as she took her seat at Dimitri’s right hand. Her pajamas were flimsy and loose, but covered her chest as she yawned once more and accepted a cup of coffee set before her. “Goodmorning, all.”

“Well,” Rufus cleared his throat, “I’ll start showing up in my jammies if it’s to become fashionable.”

Byleth didn’t seem to care, only focused on her drink as she closed her eyes, “It’s quite comfortable.”

Rufus now looked to Dimitri, who had begun tearing into his sausage as if he was starving. He gaped, “Your Majesty, nephew, there are some diplomats that prefer meeting in the morning, you know. What if they were here now?”

Dimitri swallowed the meat, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, “I would simply change clothes before I met them.”

Byleth lit up, “Or, they can wear pajamas as well!”   


“Splendid idea, my Queen!”

“No,” Rufus shook his head adamantly, “No, Goddess you two are going to need some work. Dimitri, I expected better from you.”

“What’s the problem, uncle?” He spoke with his mouth full of sausage, “I don’t have any meetings this morning, and what could the servants possibly gossip about?”

“I suppose _this_ kind of gossip would be better than what they’re saying now.”

That caught Byleth’s attention. She perked up from her coffee, “What do you mean?”

He looked at her as if she was stupid, and Dimitri suddenly felt the need to kick him in the shin. Rufus rolled his eyes, “They’re speaking of how you two aren’t sharing a room.”

“Mother and father didn’t share a room,” Dimitri added, annoyed, “that’s normal.”

“No, how you two never were seen in the same room. How you spent the last two nights apart.”

The air grew uncomfortable. Dimitri felt bad for Dedue standing behind him, having to listen to this insipid conversation. Byleth looked embarrassed, and went back to sipping her coffee as Dimitri stared at Rufus. “That’s nobody’s business but ours.”

“The people are expecting a baby,” he spat, “I’m sorry to be rude, truly, but I’m your advisor. I’m just telling you the truth.”

“It’s been two days!”   


“The sooner, the better!”   


“That’s nobody’s business but our own, uncle,” he snapped, stomach now churning in anger as he and Rufus had a staring constest, blue eyes on blue, “If Byleth never wanted to have sex, I would never force her.”

He was unfazed, “Take a mistress then!”

“I would _never_!”

Mortified, Byleth buried her face into her hands as she leaned on the table. The servants standing around the room only stared with wide eyes at the uncle and nephew as they argued. If the rumor mill was not spinning yet, it would be now. Rufus only scowled, “I’m just looking out for Faerghus, boy. You know that the country needs an heir, and heck even if we didn’t, the servants are still going to talk! It doesn’t _matter_ if it’s none of their business.”

Dimitri knew that, and Rufus was right. Yet, looking at the discomfort of his wife, Dimitri was blinded by his irritation. He returned to his plate, stabbing his eggs with his fork harshly and chewing on them as if they did him a personal wrong. Rufus stood from his chair and silently took his coffee out of the room. 

As he left, Byleth looked at him, dark eyes wide and curious, “You wouldn’t force me?”

He was incredulous, “Of course not! Goddess, that would be terrible.”

She watched as he stuffed another sausage into his mouth, glaring at the fork. “But you wouldn’t take a mistress?”

“No.”

“I’d be okay if you did.”

“Well…” he paused for a moment as his anger cooled, replaced by discomfort, “no, _I_ wouldn’t be.”

“That’s… nice.”

“Would you ever…”

She could finish his train of thought easily, “No. I don’t think I would.”

It was enough assurance to calm his heart. He sighed in relief, and continued on his breakfast. Queen and King ate silently.

The Tuesday afternoon was spent with Dimitri in his office. He truly did have to work on paying off the bill for the wedding ceremony, which had cost more than his own coronation. Along with writing a letter to the church, and to all the guests that had come. 

He was so busy he did not even get a chance to see Byleth. Dinner was brought to his office that night. 

Byleth ate at the dining table alone with Rufus and the few remaining nobles that had not left for their own territories yet. She faked her most polite smile, feeling empty inside.

  
  


**Wednesday**

If it was any consolation to Byleth, the royal palace of Fhirdiad did have a fishing pond. 

She had surprised her maidservant when she asked for help dragging all of her fishing gear from her closet. Along with her dress, her pole and tackles were the only items from Garreg Mach that she traveled with. 

Her father was staying until the end of the week to help her adjust to life in Fhirdiad better. He promised to visit once a month if he could, yet the schedule of the Captain of the Knights of Seiros could get rather hectic at times. He was using all of his vacation time having traveled to Fhirdiad with Byleth in the first place. 

She thought of this with a frown as she sat on the pier in front of the pond. Her father would leave soon, and she’d be all alone in this strange town. The very thought curdled her stomach. 

And this pond barely had anything in it. She assumed that nobody really fished it, and so nobody bothered to ever put any fish in it. Nonetheless, she rested the rod between her legs and leaned back to stare at the sky, and wait. 

Wait. Her life had been filled with a lot of waiting lately. 

Waiting to sleep until the proper time, waiting for dinner to start, waiting for balls to end, waiting for the long winded nobles to finish saying what they’re saying. She didn’t really enjoy it so far. 

At least the pond was quiet. It had vibrant green moss growing around the edges, and lily pads floating throughout peacefully. She enjoyed the view, and the rose bushes surrounding it were just as beautiful as the water. 

This was what Dimitri was trying to escape from. She could only imagine the things he’d seen in this castle.

It was as if her thoughts of him had summoned the King to her side. The sound of his heavy footfalls reached her ears, and she lazily glanced over her shoulder to catch him approaching through the grass.

He was wearing a loose shirt, but was covered with a brown cloak. His clothes now were more common than ever, but he looked more royal than he did the week before. His hair was loose around his face as he approached, windblown and messy. She was sure her own hair was just as much of a mess.

Once he was within speaking distance, his walk slowed, “Do you want some company?”

“Have you gotten bored of your paperwork?”

He smiled devilishly, “Too many papercuts.”

“You weren’t lying about that, at least.”

Another reminder of the lying. Byleth couldn’t help herself. She turned away to stare at the water again, it was so still and her pole had not moved even an inch. Dimitri took the spot next to her and dangled his legs off the end of the harbor as she did. 

“I’m sorry,” he tilted his head, though he kept his eyes on a lilypad, “I just wanted to escape. I didn’t know that you were Lady Eisner.”

She frowned, “Escape from what?”

“The marriage,” his shoulders slumped as he leaned forward, “I didn’t want to get married, and you were a nice distraction.”

“We didn’t even know each other,” she exhaled in amusement, “but I suppose that was the fun part.”

He was hesitant to admit it, but eventually gave in with a casual shrug, “Yes, I suppose it was. I’m sorry that I lied to you so blatantly.”

Would she forgive him? Rhea had always taught her to be forgiving, and Jeralt had urged her to do so. It wasn’t the world’s biggest discrepancy, yet her general frustration had made her want to take it out on him. She couldn’t use his lying about being a prince to continue to be her excuse and outlet for her anger.

“It’s fine,” she managed to admit. Saying these things was like ripping off a bandaid, she knew she just had to do it quickly and deal with the sting afterwards, “I’m just sad. And angry... And resentful.”

He now looked at her. He always looked so innocent with his wide, blue eyes. “At me?”

“No,” she replied quickly, “At this whole situation. I was sure that my fiance was a tyrant and I could have a good reason to hate you and hate my life - but then I met this guy in that village and he was sweet and he held my hand and he liked my smile and I was happy for a week. And just as I get him off my mind, I find out that my cruel tyrant husband is that guy. So now I kind of like my husband, despite everything that’s happened… That’s terrible.”

Dimitri couldn’t help but smile. “You like your husband? You’re right, that’s awful.”

“Shush.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that you’re so infatuated with your husband.”

Byleth eyed him with a knife-like glare. She could either be incredibly blank, or incredibly expressive, depending on how much she despised Dimitri’s teasing in that moment. He only smiled wider as she intensified her stink-eye. 

“It’s just so new,” she eventually gave up and returned to staring out at the pond, “It’s a new place, and I don’t have any friends here. I don’t know what I’m doing…” she laughed in bitter amusement, “I don’t know how to be a Queen.”

Dimitri would admit something to her that he would admit to very few in his life. He sighed and looked at the pond as well, which was reflecting the setting sun of the day. “I must confess, I’ve trained for this all of my life and I still don’t know how to be a King.”

“At least you have friends and family here.”

He did, but it wouldn’t be long until Byleth had the same, he knew that for sure. She was too charming in her own odd way to not catch the attention of a genuine friend. There would also be snakes among the grass, as there was in every court, but he trusted that she would be able to handle them. 

Dimitri only hummed in thought and threw his head back to look at the oranges and pinks painting the sky. “I’m your friend.”

“You’re my husband.”

“And your friend,” he corrected, now sitting up straight as he turned to her, “let me take you out tonight.”

Uninterested, she paused and glanced his way, “Where?”

“Your father told me to show you something interesting about Fhirdiad,” he took her hand into his ever so gently, “so I’d like to do that.”

Byleth had caught no fish, but there were none to catch. She knew that leaving her rod and supplies on the harbor would be fine, so she allowed Dimitri to pull her up and lead her back into the castle. 

He brought her to his room, and emerged through the door a second later wearing a heavy cloak that covered his body and face. He carried another in his arms like a small animal, and threw it over her shoulders. 

“I used to have to sneak out to do this,” he explained as he pulled the hood up over her head, “but now I can do whatever I wish.”

He could. It was only two days of Kingship so far and he was already sneaking out like a hooligan. He led Byleth out of the castle and into the city streets of Fhirdiad, their faces covered by the scratchy wool of the cloaks. 

Night was coming upon them like a thief. The people still milled about with their daily business, some of them drunk and some of them scurrying home to safety behind closed doors. Large street lights hung over the cobblestone roads like giants, with resident mages walking on the sidewalks to shoot a quick firespell into the candle on the top. 

Byleth had never been in a city so big. When she left on assignments with her father they never visited anywhere quite this large. And the town in Garreg Mach was far different than the bustling streets of Fhirdiad. 

Dimitri reached behind him to clasp her hand. They were linked as they walked. Their arms swung between them, and she was assured to have him there. 

The city began to quiet down as he led her down a steeper hill and under a bridge. It was a seedier part of town, with trash blown about by the wind. Several men slept on the side of the road, and Dimitri only pulled her closer. 

From under his cloak, he heard her whisper, “I’m not taking you anywhere dangerous, I promise.”

Byleth smirked. She would let him feel heroic and protective as much as he wished. “Thank you. I’ve seen worse, though.”

“That’s a nice compliment, thank you.” For his bad part of town to not be nearly as bad as some others, that was a kind thing to say. 

With his arm wrapped around her waist, he led her under a stone bridge. There was a door with golden light shining from behind the small window. Dimitri stopped in front of it and knocked.

The door creaked open, “Pass?”

Dimitri said nothing. He only reached into his cloak and pulled out two gold coins. Depositing them into the open palm of the door keeper, he and Byleth were instantly let into the mysterious room.

It was a small bar. It was even smaller than the tavern in the village, yet it was warm and cozy. Byleth enjoyed the heat of the fire warming her arms as Dimitri led her to a table in the back. The two sat down, and directed their gaze to the main attraction of the room. 

A man was sitting on a pile of crates at the head of the room. He spoke loudly, but his voice was filled with warmth. All eyes were on him as he spoke, “And Loog said to the Maiden, ‘fair woman, how you have touched the hearts of my people with your kindness. Allow me to accompany you on your quest’. The maiden accepted, and Loog joined her on her pegasi.”

Byleth leaned into Dimitri, whispering, “Loog?”

“You wanted to hear stories of him.”

She did. The storyteller went on with the warmth of a grandpa telling a bedtime tale to his grandchildren. “First, they had to tame the mighty griffin of the mountain! Loog took Areadbhar, and he fought his way to the cave, but when he approached the sleeping beast, it awoke!”

A gasp rippled through the crowd. Byleth couldn’t help the tingle of joy in her stomach, making her smile. 

“It asked Loog, ‘what are you doing here?’ and Loog told the truth... He said he was there to tame it, but the griffin did not want to be tamed!”

Dimitri leaned forward on the table like a child, his eyes wide and mouth open with glee. The storyteller carried on, “The griffin and Loog fought and wrestled and tore at each other like lions! Finally, Loog held the griffin down, and demanded for it to serve him!”

Byleth thought of what little Dimitri had told her about Loog, the stories from his childhood. Of course he would’ve read those kinds of books, they were about his own ancestors. She leaned into her husband, “Have you ever wrestled a griffin?”

He blinked, “Yes.”

“When?”

“Last Thursday.”

“You were with me last Thursday.” Unless he left that night, found a griffin, and wrestled it before going home. Perhaps they kept griffins in the castle simply for wrestling purposes.

He only turned his head towards her and grinned. The realization hit her like a ton of bricks. “We did _not_ wrestle.”

“You scratch like a griffin.”

She does, she absolutely does. He had her there. Her mouth gaped open like a fish as she stared at him, “You’re terrible.”

Dimitri only shrugged and turned his head back to listen to the storyteller. As taken aback by the sudden playfulness of her husband as she was, Byleth couldn’t help but smile. 

Peaceful for the first time since Saturday, she sighed, and lay her head on his shoulder. Content.

**Thursday**

Byleth and Dimitri’s rooms were right next to each other, though the two often went to bed at completely different times. On this Thursday morning, though, they emerged from their doors at the exact same moment. 

Dimitri stopped and stared. Byleth felt her cheeks grow pink as she patted her choppy hair down, “Do I look unsightly?”

“No,” He corrected immediately, eyes still lingering on her, “You look wonderful.”

Byleth covered her smile for the first time in a week. Dimitri found himself frowning at the sight, “I want to see you smile, By. Please don’t do that.”

Her brows furrowed, “Is that a command?”

“Yes.”

“I’m the consort, you can’t command me.”

“I can request it as a friend, can’t I?”

“Then request, Dima, don’t demand.”

He sighed, though he felt quite playful - which was unusual for this early in the morning. “Please, Your Majesty Queen Byleth Blaiddyd, don’t cover your mouth when you smile?”

A pause. She rolled on the balls of her feet coyly, “Why not?”

He hadn’t had enough coffee for this, yet her coy look was enough to give him energy. His heart skipped a beat and left him breathless. “Because I think your smile is beautiful.”

“Oh?”

“I think it’s akin to the sunrise,” he gestured to the windows in his room, placed perfectly to see the sun coming up above the snowy mountaintops, “it’s more beautiful than any flower in the garden, more magnificent than any snow leopard attacking a rabbit.”

“Snow leopard attacking a rabbit?”

“Quite magnificent.”

“I see…” her cheeks were warm and pink, as was his. That feeling of absolute teenage excitement and hormonal rush had returned once more, and it was delectable. Byleth held out her arm for Dimitri to take, “You must like me or something.”

“I do.” How bold, he didn’t know he had it in him. Perhaps their practice a week earlier had prepared him more than he thought. 

“Walk me to the dining hall? I’m having breakfast with my father today.”

“May I join you?”

“Only if you don’t say anything embarrassing.”

He would try his best. 

While Dimitri had managed to not say anything embarrassing to Jeralt, he quite embarrassed himself when Rufus pulled him out of breakfast to attend to some papers and meetings in his office. Byleth only sent him a disappointed glance before returning to her tea, and Dimitri kept the baleful look in her eyes in his mind all through the meeting. 

He had to respond to a letter concerning an uprising in the West, and another letter to compose to the Western Church - they were tasked with keeping the uprisings to a minimum. Rufus only laughed at him when he complained about the amount of work that had piled up over just one night. 

It was evening by the time Dimitri could breathe again. Sitting back in his chair and rubbing his tired eyes, there was only a moment’s reprieve allowed before another someone knocked on his door once again. 

He groaned like a petulant child, “I’m not working anymore. The rest of the evening is for sleep.”

“And food?”

Byleth’s voice. Perking up immediately, he scrambled away from his desk. He nearly tripped over himself as he stumbled to the door to pull it wide open. 

She stood there, in a simple white dress and loosely curled hair. She was radiant, oddly enough, and Dimitri couldn’t tell if her radiance was just Byleth being Byleth, or from the plate of lamb chops in her hands. With a furrowed brow, she stared, “Are you okay?”

“I am now.” How cheesy he became around her. She only grimaced at his joke as he let her inside the office and closed the door. 

She moved aside several papers on his desk and set the plate down, “You missed dinner. I asked if I could bring this up to you.”

Dimitri had not even realized that he was hungry. Sitting in his chair, he took the plate and began cutting at the food with fervor. “Did you eat?” He asked with a full mouth. 

She only nodded and pursed her lips. Her eyes lingered on him. 

It was only a few moments after stuffing his face that he realized how rude he was acting. He froze, swallowing his big bite and setting his fork down, “I’m sorry, I’m probably gross to look at. My travels with the soldiers completely erased my dining skills, it seems.”

“No,” she assured, “You’re fine. I was just thinking.”

His eyes and focus were on her, “About what?” How he wished to add some nickname, like ‘my love’, ‘my beloved’, ‘my queen’. Yet, she was only his in legalities, not in heart. He wouldn’t lie to himself and call her something sweet when her heart didn’t belong to him. 

Byleth bit her lip in thought. She began to raise a hand to her mouth, but lowered it upon remembering his request. Instead, she didn’t smile at all, and only focused on a spot on the floor as if it was the most interesting thing in the room. “I just didn’t see you at dinner.”

He was confused. Yes, she didn’t see him at dinner, that was why he held a plate of cold food in his hands. “Yes?”

“Well, I know that you’re swamped,” her eyes flickered the letters on the side of his desk, “but I’d really like to see you at dinner.”

“I’m sorry,” his heart fell, and he suddenly had no appetite, “I didn’t know.”

“It’s fine. Like I said, I know you’re busy. Just… if I’m going to live here and be your wife, I’d really like to see you sometimes. Not just super early in the morning or super late at night. And if we had kids,” she slowed in her speech, eyes growing wide, “Well, it would be all the more important that you be there.”

She was correct. Dimitri was slowly beginning to learn that Byleth was always correct. He sent her a smile that he hoped was reassuring, “I know, my friend. I just… I haven’t been a husband or a King for very long at all, I’m still learning how to balance the two.”

“It must be difficult for you.”

“Yes, but it’s difficult for us both right now. I want to be there for you.”

A tingle in Byleth’s chest. For a moment, she thought she was having a heart attack, yet something told her that it was the terrible thing Flayn had warned her about. 

_Emotions_. 

Disgusting. She looked away from Dimitri’s sincere eyes, not having the power to keep her gaze steady with his own. Her chest and stomach both tingled, and she felt that she was getting a headache. 

Was this affection? Was this what eventually became love? She held a hand to her chest and gulped, “Dima?”

“Hm?”

“How do you know if you’re falling in love with someone?”

He was struck, taken aback. He leaned away in his chair and stared at her with wide eyes. His mouth gaped, and he blinked many times in surprise, “I-I don’t know.”

“You don’t have any idea of what it feels like?”

“Well,” he gulped and rubbed his neck, “I think it’s very… nice. And you start wanting that person’s attention. When you tell a joke you look at that person’s reaction first to see if they’re laughing-”

“I don’t tell many jokes, though.”

“Yes, but, it can be other things too, I guess. You, uh… just want that person around all the time, and you can’t stop staring at them, and you think about them at night, and you…” he trailed off in his ramble, gesturing emptily into the air, “you just begin to be happy with them. You begin to see a future with that person, to be content. I don’t think it’s always exciting, and it won’t always be fun, but even when you’re angry at each other you still love each other. You’re willing to put up with them, and you’re willing to do the most boring chores possible with them. I suppose… it’s just contentment.”

Silence fell like a blanket of snow. Dimitri stared at Byleth, and she at him. Her breath was gone from her chest, and Dimitri felt quite the same as his eyes lingered on her.

“You sound like you speak from experience,” she pointed out lightly, her voice almost a whisper so as to not break the silence of the room. 

Dimitri bit his lip, and looked away. The clock on his wall ticked and ticked. It was the only sound in the emptiness of his dark office as they sat in a heavy silence. Finally, he sighed, “I am, a little bit. It’s how I imagine things going, at least.”

She was weightless, in her own world with him, “With me?”

The words could be said loud and clear amidst through everything unspoken. Byleth was smart enough to know Dimitri after nearly two weeks of being at his side daily, and felt herself bold enough in that moment to make assumptions. It seemed that she was right as he sighed and avoided her eyes once more. 

“I think we’re good for each other,” finally, his gaze flickered to meet hers, “You’re kind, and strong, and you find happiness in the little things of each day. I need that, By. I need you at my side, even if we’re just friends.”

“I don’t think we’re just friends.”

“Well, we _are_ married.”

“No,” she huffed, “You and I both know we started that whole fake relationship thing because we were attracted to each other.”

Her words were true, but Dimitri had found the perfect moment to tug at her strings. He sat back in his chair and rested his fingers against his cheek, humming in the back of his throat playfully, “Oh? I was just practicing.”

“Shush,” she huffed, “Don’t think I didn’t see you looking at my butt when we fought those bandits.”

“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You kissed me for an entire evening!”   


“I don’t recall.”

She was out of her seat in an instant, hands on his desk and body leaning over the table. Her hair fell loosely around her shoulders in a most delectable way, and Dimitri thought, just for a moment, that he could see the outline of her body through that flimsy white dress. 

Perfect. She leaned further towards him, “You were attracted to me, admit it.”

“I admit nothing.”

“Dima,” she whispered, “admit it and I’ll kiss you.”

He barked a laugh, “I don’t want you to kiss me just because you want to be proven right.”

Giving up, Byleth pulled back. The image of her body was gone, replaced by her huffy frown and crossed arms. He watched as she turned away, “I’ll call a maid to come get your plate.”

Dimitri felt a tingle of disappointment, yet despite the playfulness of his statement, the truth still rang through his words. He didn’t want Byleth to kiss him just so she could pronounce her victory. He wanted Byleth to kiss him because she wanted to kiss him, and that was that. He would accept no less. 

He stood from his desk and closed the curtains to the room, blowing out his candle and leaving. Byleth had escaped from his view long ago, and he had no idea where she would be, so he continued tiredly to his bedroom. 

Upon walking through the halls and up the stairs, he finally arrived at his quarters. With the innocence of a child walking into a surprise birthday party, he very stupidly opened the door to his bedroom.

Byleth sat on his bed, wearing one of his shirts, waiting for him.

Dimitri, in his sudden panic at seeing her bare legs, shut the door between them, leaving Byleth alone.

His heart pumped in his ears. He stood in the hallway and stared at the floor. His hand rested on the doorknob as he thought of what had happened. Byleth was half naked, on his bed. Half naked, with possibly no undergarments on. In his room in that very moment was the most beautiful woman he knew, and she was waiting for him! 

He was out of breath. He clutched his chest, and reminded himself to inhale, then exhale deeply.

Perhaps she was mistaken. The thought rang through his mind with sudden clarity. Their rooms were right next to each other, she most likely mistook his room for hers. 

Nodding to himself - as his assumption was the most correct assumption about anything ever - he turned the knob once more to go bravely inform Byleth of her mistake. Nervousness swelled in his stomach, and his palm was sweaty against the doorknob. He turned it.

And broke it straight off the door. 

The accursed crest of Blaiddyd glowed in front of him like a mocking reminder of what he’d done. Dumbly, he held the copper doorknob to his face and inspected the bent metal in the shape of his fingers. It had come so cleanly off the wood, and splintered several cracks into the door as he had ripped it from it’s place.

He dropped the knob and it landed with a clatter, rolling away across the floor. He ignored the sound and chose to instead knock sheepishly, “By? Can you hear me?”

“Yes?” She sounded confused. 

“I just, uh, broke the handle. And I think you have the wrong room. Your room is on the left, dear friend.”

Her voice matched his sheepish and embarrassed tone, “Um, no, I don’t have the wrong room. I meant to be in here.”

“You’re… half naked, By.”

“Yes.”

Wonderful. This was all planned, yet he had gone and broken the door. On the other side, Byleth wiggled the knob, yet the door refused to budge.

“It’s stuck,” she informed, “I’m gonna, uh, get my pants back on.”

Even more wonderful! His wife had been trying to seduce him and he had made things so awkward and terrible that she felt bad enough to put her pants back on. 

Of course, he easily could’ve ripped the door off it’s hinges - but he wasn’t an animal, and while he was hormonal and desperately craved Byleth, he wouldn’t be so feral right in front of her. At least not for their first time together. 

He only sighed as he listened to her rustling around through the door, “I’ll go get the blacksmith.”

  
  


**Friday**

The next morning was awkward, to say the least. 

Byleth had tried to seduce him, and Dimitri had ruined it entirely. They sat next to each other at the dining table, picking at their breakfast with the intensity of two people trying their damndest to act as if everything was normal. 

Jeralt was not having it. 

He glared at his daughter, then at his son in law, then back to his daughter. His glare added to the awkwardness of the situation, and Dimitri could only wither like an unwatered flower under the gaze of the Knight Captain.

Forks scraped against plates. Mouths chewed. Jeralt glared. 

“This is unbearable,” Byleth finally broke as she pushed her chair away from the table. The only sound was the legs of her chair scraping against the tile as she stood so abruptly, “I can’t take it anymore!”   
  


Jeralt furrowed his brows with the intensity of a very annoyed man, “You’re the one making it awkward!”   


“Me?” She pointed at Dimitri, “it’s _him_ who’s making it awkward.”

Dimitri just chewed on his eggs and ignored them with a casual sort of uppityness. Dedue stood behind him, his content gaze turning into a glare as he looked at the Eisners. 

“His Majesty is eating breakfast.”

Byleth gaped, “Oh come on, Dedue. You know he’s acting weird.”

Dimitri bit the end of his bacon and stayed silent. 

“He’s very busy, and stressed out. Please leave him be.”

She pushed further, “Dedue, you’re feeling just as weird as I am, admit it.”

He was, but he would never admit it. Before he had to think of another excuse, Dimitri simply raised a calm, steady hand to silence him. He closed his eyes, and inhaled deeply as all eyes lingered on him. 

“It’s fine, my friend,” he assured the man of Duscur, “I should own up to this myself.” He looked at Jeralt very bravely, “Sir, last night, we almost consummated our marriage.”

A heavy pause. “I… really don’t want to know this.”

“But I broke the door because I was nervous, and nothing happened.”

“Really, please-”

“The blacksmith came and fixed the door, but by then Byleth and I were both tired and we went our separate ways.”

“Thanks, uh-”

“That’s why we’re so odd this morning. We just never sat down and talked about what happened like adults,” he now looked at a very pink Byleth, “I’m sorry I didn’t come to you and talk to you after all that happened.”

Dedue, even, shifted uncomfortably, yet he was more used to the King’s obliviousness to a room than anybody else was. Byleth only stared at him with an incredulous look, “Thanks... for explaining.”

An even more tense silence fell. Seconds that felt like minutes ticked by. Dimitri only returned to his breakfast just for something to focus on.

Jeralt was the one to break the silence with a slap of his hand on the dining table as he stood out of his chair, “Well, wonderful meal, as always. I’m going to go throw up in my mouth now.”

Byleth sent a quick glare to Dimitri, who only stared at her with confused eyes. She ran after her father as he retreated from the air of the dining room, reaching out to him to stop him from escaping. 

They disappeared through the doors. THe servants were there immediately to pick up their plates and to clean the table. Dimitri only stared at his eggs blankly.

“Women,” he began to an attentive Dedue, “I’m honest with her and her father, but she’s angry at me still…”

“Perhaps,” he began slowly, “she doesn’t wish for her father to know of her trying to seduce a man?”

Of course, that was it! He could’ve kissed Dedue’s mind for his insight and wisdom. He stood from his chair, pushing away from the table and sending his dear friend a big, lopsided smile, “Dedue, I request your services today.”

“My services are always available to you, your Majesty.”

“ _Dimitri_.”

Dedue gave in, repeating his name just as he was taught, “Dimitri.”

“Dedue, today... I want you to tell me about the ins and outs of women.”

He stared. Dimitri sent him a reassuring nod. A silence grew between them. 

As it turned out, Dedue had absolutely nothing to tell. 

He was just as confused by the feminine gender as Dimitri was, and generally didn’t care either. The only woman Dedue truly knew about was Mercedes, and it took him five full years just to hold her hand. 

Dimitri was on his own, besides the small bit of advice Dedue eventually provided, which was ‘just be kind’. It was good advice, surely, and Dimitri would have no trouble applying it. Felix was even kind to Annette, and it was easy to see that she adored him. 

Yet, Dimitri knew that there was a difference between just being kind, and being charming to a woman. Even the nicest man could end up being a bit boring, and Dimitri surely didn’t want to be a boring husband to Byleth. 

It was odd, even, to think of Byleth as his wife. He had only known her for nearly two weeks now, and while their relationship moved rather quickly, it wasn’t normal to be married to someone you met only two weeks ago. 

Yet, had Dimitri ever had a normal life? Did he even know what normal tasted like?

He didn’t. But he supposed that he could make a ‘normal’ for himself, and he would gladly include Byleth in that. 

She had spent the day with her father, as he would be leaving on Sunday and not return for another month. Dimitri was holed up in his office all day as per usual, and this Friday was relatively peaceful. 

As Byleth requested, he set aside his work and made his way to the dining room in the evening. She was correct when she said that he needed to be there, and he would try his best to fulfill her wishes. 

Dinner was peaceful as well. Rufus lectured him over a plate of mashed potatoes about the ins and outs of taxes. Byleth and Jeralt sat at the other end of the table and spoke to each other in hushed voices. She looked happy, and Dimitri gladly endured the lecture on taxes to save his wife from Rufus. His uncle had intended to lecture her as well about the importance of flower arrangement, but Dimitri’s smartly placed inquiry of ‘Uncle, but what’s the history of taxes?’ distracted him from it. 

Dimitri chewed on a piece of roasted chicken and nodded along. Rufus was waving his hands now, “Those damn Empire dastards were ruthless, but smart enough to organize a government! Why, I believe taxes have been around since the beginning of man.”

Byleth sent him a glance. Dimitri smiled, and she covered her mouth once more and looked away. Jeralt was leaning into her to whisper something that she laughed at. 

“First thing to ever be taxed, eh, I think it was a log. A public log, like a public bench- Dimitri, that reminds me, we got a request last week to add more benches to the Eastern side of the city. Did you see that?”

He tore his eyes from Byleth, forcing himself to look at Rufus, “Yes, I saw it. I’ll get on that later.”

“You should be getting on it now!”

“Uncle,” he eyed the man, “I’m eating dinner with my family right now.”

As much as he enjoyed denying it, Rufus was his family. As was Byleth, and even Jeralt. He could only wonder how his dear uncle would react to children running around, or how his father would’ve reacted.

He sighed and returned to his chicken, zoning out and not hearing a word of the lecture. 

When night finally fell and Dimitri returned to his room, a knock at the newly fixed door broke him from his reverie. 

Last week he had slept so soundly, and this week it was barely at all. He had been laying on his bed staring at the words in a book without comprehending a single one. The knock was enough to make him jump. 

Usually, the maids would announce themselves, but no voice came. He set his book aside and padded across his bedroom to greet whoever was waiting on the other side. 

Opening the door, he peaked out to catch sight of Byleth shuffling in place in the hallway. Her hair was braided and pulled behind her shoulders, her bangs pushed back away from her face with pins. She bit her lip, and stared.

Dimitri stared back. No words were exchanged. 

A drop of silence, an awkward one to rival this morning’s exchange. His tongue felt dry and his hand drummed on the door knob anxiously. Finally, she raised her eyebrows, “May I come in?”

So that was what she wanted. How rude of Dimitri to not invite her inside instantly. He nodded and chuckled to himself as he opened the door wider and stepped aside. The door closed behind her as she made a quick beeline to his bed and plopped down as if it was hers. 

Dimitri watched, “What do you need? Is the fireplace in there working? I know it’s quite fickle, I can help yo-”

“No, Dima,” she patted the spot beside her, “I just want to sit with you.”

He wondered if this would be a repeat of last night’s intentions, yet she wore a modest nightgown that showed him nothing. Perhaps she was going about it in a different way. But whatever the motivation, he would do as she requested, and sit. 

The mattress complained under his weight as he took the spot beside her. She sent him a subtle smile, and he returned it. The awkwardness was disappearing like a fine mist, replaced by a more comfortable silence. 

Her hand rested upon his. It was warm, soft. Dimitri looked at their hands and noticed how smaller hers was compared to his, and lifted them to compare the length of their fingers. His were so much longer, but fit so well. Sweetly, she smiled and laced her fingers between his and squeezed. 

The only sound was the crackling of the fire. The room was warm, and comfortable, but he knew that hers would’ve been just as comfortable. Perhaps she preferred company, or perhaps she was lonely. He frowned at the thought, “Are you doing well?”

“Yes,” her answer was soft, “I am. I just haven’t gotten to see you much today.”

She’d see him every day for the rest of her life, but he understood the sentiment. Their lack of time together had been gnawing at him as well. “I found myself missing you.”

“Me too.”

“Would you…” a thought occurred, a sweet reminder of something he craved, “like to dance?”

“To dance?”

He squeezed her hand lightly, “We didn’t have a dance at our wedding.”

She frowned, “I don’t know any traditional dances.” 

She must’ve meant the reel. He wouldn’t have her do such a thing, especially with it only being the two of them. He stood and untangled his fingers from hers so he could hold her palm, “We can waltz.”

“I’m not very good,” despite her soft complaint, she stood and allowed him to lead her to the middle of the room, “you’ll have to lead.”

“I don’t mind that.”

A hand on her waist, placed high enough so it wouldn’t be improper. He smiled down at her as he directed her hand to rest on his shoulder. He took one step to the side and she followed with a lag. Her eyes were glued to their feet, but Dimitri took it slow enough to where she wouldn’t have much trouble following. 

After a few more steps and when she finally began to understand his patterns, he began to hum to the theme of a waltz. It would be their music in his empty bedroom, and while he didn’t have the best voice, he could hum well enough. 

She smiled and tilted her head, “That’s nice.”

“Why thank you,” he went back to humming and leading her slowly through the room. She was graceful as she followed, and eventually rested her forehead against his shoulder affectionately. 

They danced, and took a break after a bit. She stayed for an extra hour just to talk about her day with Jeralt, while Dimitri talked about work. 

Sending her back to her own room that night felt like a sin. How he wished to be bold enough to ask her to sleep over, and she looked as if she wished for the same thing. 

Tiredly rubbing her eyes, she left his room, sending him a quick glance and a quirk of her lips, “Goodnight.”

His heart complained that she was leaving. He forced a smile, “Goodnight, my… friend.” 

  
  


**Saturday**

It was a rare moment of content for Dimitri as he stood on his balcony with a cup of coffee. The morning air bit through his heavy jacket, but it was a familiar feeling that he always welcomed. 

Another sip of coffee, with his eyes closing and mouth humming. He didn’t have anything urgent that morning, and he decided that he would ignore his work as much as he possibly could. Even the urgent knock at his door went ignored. 

It was most likely Rufus. It sounded like a man’s heavy fist, coupled with a muttered complaint. Dimitri tuned it out and took another sip of his warm drink as the wind pushed his hair back. 

Another knock, this time lighter. A second later it was accompanied by a heavier one. It was a quick rapt, urgent and bothersome.

He sighed, “Who is it?”

“Your wife won’t leave me alone.” Rufus’s annoyance was clear in his tone. Yet Dimitri stood at attention with the mention of his wife. 

Leaving the balcony, he rushed to his mirror to pat his unruly hair down. His cowlicks were quite vicious this morning, and there was a line of dried drool on his cheeks. 

He splashed water onto his face and rubbed his cheeks, “Just a minute.”

Rufus was not a patient man, and in his mind there was no minute to spare, “She woke me up!”

“Uncle, I know that you’re enjoying your retirement, but it’s not going to kill you to wake up early.” He rolled his eyes and drew his wet fingers through his hair, “I’m sure it was important.”

The muffled voice of Byleth piped up, it must’ve been her who had knocked softly. “I would like to talk about my present circumstances.”

How vague. Her present circumstances? Dimitri’s heart fell - only six days into their marriage and she already wanted a divorce! What had he done wrong?

He rushed to the door and swung it open, nearly breaking it off the hinges in his heightened emotions. Byleth and Rufus stood before him with their varying degrees of irritation. “Your circumstances?” He questioned, hand tightening on the doorknob, “What about them?”

She huffed, “I can’t go anywhere without a battalion of guards following me!”

Dimitri had only assigned her one liongard, not an entire battalion. He looked to Rufus for an explanation. His uncle only scowled, “That was my doing. The Queen must be protected at all costs.”

It was a relief that there was no talk of divorce, but the obvious disdain and annoyance flashing over Byleth’s face was not acceptable for Dimitri. He wanted to make her as comfortable as possible, not frustrate her to no end. Rufus had never cared about what was annoying or not, only what he thought was right. 

“Uncle, Byleth is a capable fighter, she doesn’t need an entire battalion.”

He deadpanned, “Even the most capable of fighters cannot take on an entire army by themselves.”

Nonsense. “If there was any army coming to attack Byleth, we would know.”

“The real problem here,” she intervened, “is that they won’t let me go anywhere.”

“What do you mean?”

“They stopped father and I from leaving the city yesterday.”

Again, his heart fell. Perhaps he was overthinking, but the thought of Byleth leaving the city and never coming back only increased his worry. “Where were you going?”

Rufus scowled, increasing the intensity of the frown lines under his beard, “Probably off to get in trouble.”

“No,” she corrected sharply, “we just wanted to go fishing. The castle pond doesn’t have any fish.”

Realization hit Dimitri suddenly, “Oh, it’s your father’s last day here, isn’t it?”

She didn’t enjoy being reminded, “Yes.”

Of course they wanted to go fishing. It was the last time they’d see each other for a good bit. She didn’t want to run away, she just wanted to spend some time with her parent. 

Dimitri nodded in understanding, “I’ll take care of it. But right now with everything being so new, I recommend you don’t leave the city. Actually, there are some parts of the city I ask that you not visit.” 

Rufus was pleased with his nephew’s decision, but Byleth’s displeasure only grew. She furrowed her brows, “Why not?”

He had been thinking about this quite a lot, actually. “Big ceremonies like the ones we just had attract certain types of people. Bandit groups have probably been camping outside of Fhirdiad for a while, trying to catch travelers. Uncle is right when he says that even the best fighter doesn’t stand a chance in a numbers game.”

“You can’t expect to lock me up here, Dimitri!”

She was angry, but he kept his composure. “I told you, I’ll take care of it. And it won’t be for forever.”

In her eyes it sounded as such. She only frowned, and turned away to retreat from the argument. Rufus and Dimitri watched her back as she walked away with an air of coldness that rivaled Faerghus itself. 

Rufus seemed proud, a rare expression for him to portray. “You made a good decision. Think with your mind, not your heart.”

Perhaps it was the coffee, or the laid-back attitude of the morning, but Dimitri could only smile serenely at him and shake his head, “I think I’d like to have a mix of both.”

“How are you going to take care of her silly problem?”

“I’m going to get some fish, of course.”

Of course, Fhirdiad was not a seaside town, and the only fish that merchants sold were dead ones. He would get past this problem by sending a special battalion to nearby rivers, armed with fishing rods and bait. 

Later, it would be rumored that the King himself went fishing to fulfill this request, though it was not true. Dimitri couldn’t catch anything to save his life, and only watched as his knights meandered around the riverside with their poles. Several of them were confused, but a few of the older ones were enjoying themselves. 

Dimitri’s work for that day was keeping the buckets filled with water so the fish could stay alive on the trip back. The ground was muddy with rain, and his boots had been covered in the sludge long ago, but he worked hard to haul the buckets back to the wagons and carefully load them so no water would escape. 

It was an odd day for the castle servants when they returned by that afternoon, to say the least. Dimitri assisted them in pouring out the buckets and the fish into the empty pond. A mage tested the waters to make sure the fish could stay alive and reproduce, and another group of knights were sent into the wilderness to catch various bugs to help make the pond’s ecosystem thrive.

In all, it was a rather weird day for Castle Fhirdiad.

By the time it was all done, Dimitri smelled like moss and was quite drenched. He felt that he would never dry, and that his fingers would never not be pruny, but he was satisfied with the result. He sat on the harbor and watched the still water, noting a water bug skimming across the surface, and a ripple of a bass moving quickly through the weeds. 

Perfect. His wedding gift to Byleth was finally ready. 

He called for her and Jeralt, and stood a length’s away as they were summoned to the waters. Byleth didn’t look at him, only lighting up in excitement and clutching onto her father’s arm as she dragged him back to their rooms to grab their fishing rods. They ate dinner on the harbor, and caught three catfish.

Dimitri finally had the chance to speak to her when night fell. 

Byleth stood in front of his door, a promise on her lips, “I won’t leave tonight.”

There was no explanation needed. Her anger from this morning had melted away, and she stepped inside of his room with a content peace. 

She had bathed and smelled of lavender as she made her way to his bed. Her hair was soft, and Dimitri found himself grateful for his own bath as he sat down beside her. The mattress groaned under his weight, and his hand rested on top of hers. 

Tonight, her hair was loose. He wanted to run his fingers through it, though he was fearful of breaking her from her peaceful revelry. She closed her eyes and sighed, “Thank you, I appreciate that.”

“It’s not much,” it was just fish, “but I wanted something here in Fhirdiad that’s yours.”

“Well, this _is_ my home now.”

She didn’t seem sad about it, though he searched her face for any indication of such. “Yes, it is. I hope it grows on you.”

Her eyes opened, “I think it will.”

“I hope I grow on you.”

A quirk of her lips, “You’re starting to.”

It was without thought, but unlike most of his impulsive moments, he would not come to regret this. He leaned towards her, and tangled his fingers between hers, “Can I kiss you?”

Byleth. Byleth, his wife. Byleth, with the fetching dark eyes that he couldn’t get out of his mind. She simply nodded. 

His lips pressed against hers as if it was their first time. It was hesitant, soft, and inexperienced. She pushed further into the kiss to deepen it, and their bodies molded together. They always fit so perfectly against each other, as if they were created simply to be in each other’s arms. 

Dimitri was the first to pull away. He felt that if he was to kiss her anymore he would lose all gentlemanly properties. He sighed as his thumb brushed against her cheek, “I’ve missed that.”

She was breathless, “It’s only been a week.”

“Far too long.”

Byleth thought for a moment, though her mind wasn’t on his words. She looked at him, and he at her, and she took a leap of faith that he couldn’t refuse. “Can I sleep here tonight?”

It was exactly what he was thinking, “Yes. I think I’ll sleep better with you in my arms.”

“We’ll test it. If I start snoring, you can kick me out.”

“I would never.”

  
  


**Sunday**

It was the day of reckoning, the final day of Jeralt’s visit. Byleth was unemotional, though Dimitri suspected that she was just sad. 

He watched as Jeralt stood in front of his horse and spoke in low tones to his daughter. They held each other’s hands, and their words were meant only for their ears. Dimitri wouldn’t interrupt, he knew that it was important to her. 

A few knights waited near the gate for Jeralt to finish. It was early in the morning, and the best time to begin travels as they had an entire day ahead. It would only take half a week to make it to Garreg Mach, and he was to send a letter immediately upon his arrival. 

Byleth had said ‘father’ in her sleep last night. Dimitri was holding her, awake and musing over his thoughts when she muttered the title with affection. He had smoothed back her hair and kissed her head, and she calmed down into a deep slumber once more. It had given him some insight into what she was feeling, and most likely how she had felt all week. 

While Dimitri was in his home and where he knew he’d be his entire life, Byleth had been plucked from hers and dragged to an entirely new environment where she knew nobody. It had to be difficult for her, but he was determined to ease the pain as much as he could. 

Jeralt was an awkward hugger. He wrapped his arms around Byleth as if he’d never done it before, but Dimitri caught a shimmer of affection in his eyes as he held her tight. She was just as awkward with him, but her shoulders tensed as she squeezed him. 

They pulled back, and Jeralt messed her hair up as if she was a child. While she squeaked and worked to fix it, he stepped away from her and made his way to Dimitri. 

He stood at attention to the approaching Captain, “I hope you have safe travels, Sir Eisner.”

He grunted, and grabbed the King’s arm to pull him further away from Byleth. She stayed where she was, but watched with curious eyes as the two men drew away. 

Jeralt began, “Listen, kid, you better not touch a hair on her head. Or I will personally come here to cut off all your fingers.”

“Noted.” Not that he planned to ever hurt her, he’d cut the fingers off anybody that ever did. 

“I hope you’ve figured out why the church sent her in specific.”

Dimitri furrowed his brows at the vagueness of his statement, “I… am afraid not.” He could recall the snippet of conversation he had earlier with Jeralt, about Rhea wanting a set of eyes in Fhirdiad. Yet, Jeralt spoke with such an ominous tone, he had a feeling that it was in reference to something else. 

He looked at Dimitri seriously, “By has some stuff about her that’s… special. Rhea didn’t say it, but she knew that she’d be safe here.”

An honor, for sure, but a confusing one. “Is she in danger?”

Jeralt shrugged, “I don’t think so, at least. Rhea’s just a careful one, and if she trusts you to keep my daughter safe, I do too.”

Even more of an honor. As out of touch as Dimitri felt, a sort of pride swelled in his heart. “So, what you’re saying is that I have your approval as a son in law?”

“I… ugh, yes.”

Wonderful. 

Dimitri couldn’t help his large smile. He wrapped an arm around Jeralt and squeezed him, though it was a bit too hard as the older man only groaned and grunted until Dimitri finally let go of him. “I can’t thank you enough for your trust in me,” putting a hand to his chest, he bowed, “I promise I’ll do my best to make her happy.”

“You better,” he sighed, “If I come back in a month and hear about you neglecting her, just know that I’m not afraid of jail.”

Jeralt was not afraid of jail, that was noted as well. He nodded and straightened up, earning a careless glare from his father in law in acknowledgement. He would accept whatever form of approval he could get from the man. 

Jeralt returned to Byleth and rubbed his sore arms where Dimitri had squeezed him. Byleth’s lips quirked into a subtle smile as she eyed her father, “Did you have a good talk?”

“Yeah, great,” a sardonic tone, “he got a bit too excited.”

“You must’ve told him something wonderful.”

He supposed that it was quite wonderful. To be trusted with one’s daughter was an honorable position, and Dimitri’s excitement at such made Jeralt just a bit more relieved that it was him out of all people Byleth had been arranged to marry. At least he wasn’t a tyrant, or a perverted old man. 

“He’s a good guy,” he answered, “fine, I guess.”

Byleth’s cheeks were dusted with a light shade of pink. He had very rarely seen her blush in her 20 something years of life. “You think?”

“Yeah…” A hesitancy so out of character for Jeralt, but he couldn’t help himself. With the look on her face, and how her eyes lingered on the King when she thought nobody was looking. He could read her like a book, despite how often she tried to hide her feelings. 

She would be okay. Jeralt finally realized that Byleth would be okay, and he didn’t have to worry. Just for one last final bit of assurance, he tilted his head in thought and rubbed his neck, wondering aloud - though he felt that he already knew the answer. “Do you think you could… ever love him?”

The question she had been wondering herself all week. Byleth fidgeted with her fingers, then covered her smile in the same shy way Sitri always had. She shuffled and rolled on her feet in thought, she bounced her knee and she smiled. No amount of biting her tongue would make the infectious smile disappear. Jeralt knew that smile, he had worn the same when he was married.

A blush, a covered smile, a flirtatious glance passing between Byleth and Dimitri. She wore the Queen’s crown like she was born for it. 

“Maybe. I’ll give it another week.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I left a few bits open, like why Byleth was at Garreg Mach and who she is to Rhea, you can just imagine whatever you want! 
> 
> Thanks for reading <3


End file.
